Reprimended
by JinxRomance
Summary: Sherlock/OC When John asks Sherlock to keep his sister safe, he never realized he would have to deal with someone much to like himself. With conflict,anger and interest all into place, can this odd paring survive against a thickening plot by Moriarty?
1. Prologue

"Now sit down and shut up!" John said, making me look up from my work for a second. I noted him, and the women he brought in.

_Dark blue eyes, dirty blond hair, lengthy limbs, medium nose with a slight indent at the bridge-Sister._

_Dressed in men's clothing, various charms on silver necklace, knuckles a bit large and scarred- tomboy- likes to get into fights._

_Skin tanned, hair long and brighter then roots- On vacation._

_Red shirt attached to a thermal black long sleeved shirt (not use to the cold), odd deigns, skinny but not too skinny black jeans, padded sneakers- America _

_Vacant eyes, pupils dilated, amusement etched onto face-drugged._

I looked back into the microscope, smiling slightly. "Uh, right then. Holmes-"

"Why?" I asked, not looking from my work, trying to change the chemical blue.

"Sorry, what?" I looked up at him with a blank look, making him sigh and walk up to me. "She has no where else to go."

"That isn't my problem, no is it?" I jeered, looking back into the microscope as I carefully put aesthetic drops onto the liquid.

"No…."

"Then why?" I smiled once a blue color took over, finally looking up at Watson with a look of interest.

"She's my-"

"I know."

"How could you- never mind." He muttered darkly, making me smirk. "Look, she's just come back-"

"I know." he closed his eyes, telling me he was annoyed. "She just came back from the US, vacation most likely. This isn't the gay one, so you have withheld her from me. Why? Probably because she left the family a long time ago, running off at a young age. Which leaves me to my continuing question- why?" He sighed, glaring at me.

"She wasn't on vacation. She lived there."

"Right. Always something." I murmured to myself.

"She was a spy for the American Army, drafted at 15."

"Was?" I asked, brows coming together as Watson's jaw came together.

"She needs our help."

*Normal POV*

I sat in the living area of John's and Sherlock's flat. "So, what's the case then?" I blinked slowly, looking over to the man naked Sherlock Holmes, taking him in. He had sharp, angular features, with alert blue eyes, making him look like a eagle on the hunt. He wore a casual suit, and his black hair was not kept. Tall with a demanding presence, I could almost say he was attractive, say for the fact everything was moving in such a cool way…

"Someone blew up me house back in the stattes… Stats…. Sta-"

"We get it." Holmes cut it. I shrugged, laying down on the couch and looking up at the ceiling limply.

"Yeah, well, the device was planted hours before I came home from a three year mission. General told me to come back here until the heat dies down."

"Heat?"

"Yeah. The idiot reporters put me in the newspaper. My cover has been blown and now I have some enemies after me." I moved my head from side to side, liking how my body felt.

"Then what do you need me for?"

"Protection." John said for me.

"I'm no body guard." His voice said sharply, crossing his legs.

"No, but people know about you. Once they know she is here, there is no way anyone would even think about getting her!"

"No one could get to her without me knowing." I heard him muttered, seeing as how he was only a couple of feet from me.

"What was that?" John asked.

"Nothing. Fine. I'll take this for now. Where shall she sleep?" There was a pause as they both looked at each other.

"Couch." They both said, making me frown.

"Ouch. I see how it is." I sighed, holding my hand in the air with a smile.

"What is the matter with you?" John asked, but before I could say anything Holmes was standing at my side, grabbing onto my wrist.

"Uh-ohhhh." I muttered as he raised an eyebrow down at me, blue eyes shining.

"Smoking patches?" I shook my head with a smile. He pulled down my sleeve and John groaned whilst Holmes smirked. "Lidooaime patches. Clever." He murmured, dropping my arm as he walked off, hands behind his back. John walked over and pulled down the other sleeve.

"Four of them? Are you trying to kill yourself?" I shrugged, looking away.

"Six." Holmes said, and we both looked over to him. He turned with a smile. "One on each leg." I blinked as John glared at me. "Am I right?" he raised his brows, looking at me expectantly.

"Yup."

"Ohh, I'm good!" He said, shaking his head and grabbing his coat.

"Where are you going?" Watson said as he made me sit up, and began to peel the patches off.

"To tell Lestrade I solved the case of course!" With that he flew out, leaving me to stare at my brother, who merely sighed.

"He does that."


	2. Names

"Are you out of your mind?" John asked, as I walked around the car.

"My therapist thinks so." I muttered, looking inside. "Son of a bitch." I pouted, standing up straight.

"What?" My brother asked, looking around the car.

"Someone took the radio." I whipped around to see Holmes standing behind me, hands in his pockets. His face was stony as his eyes reminded alert. "What is that?" I rolled my eyes at him as he walked off the street and next to John, both now looking at the car in disgust.

"And here I thought you were smart!" He shot a hard glare at me and I smiled, putting a hand on my car. "This here is a car."

"I know that!"

"You asked!" His jaw clenched and I raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's my car from the states."

"It's disgusting."

"I know, isn't it great!" John sighed as Holmes looked up at me with brows furred.

"Why did you bring it here?" John asked and I shrugged, walking around and standing next to Holmes, us three looking at the car.

"I know you and I knew you wouldn't have one. I don't have the cash to pay for a new one, and I hate cabs." I sniffed, pulling my jacket closer as the wind blew. " 'sides. From what you told me, you guys need a car." They both shot looks at me and I raised my eyebrows.

"Not one so easily noticeable." Holmes growled. "Not only is it so… Blue… It clearly is an American model, and will be easy to find if I were to track someone." He looked at me and I pursed my lips.

"And who said you could use it?" His eyebrows shot up and I smiled.

"Right. Give me the keys." John said, holding his hand out. I pursed my lips, glaring at his hand. "Kara…" he said in a warning tone, Holmes shooting a look at me. I groaned some, turning on my heel and tossing the keys to him, muttering dark oaths as I walked back into the flat.

*Sherlock's POV*

Watson and I stood in front of the monstrosity of the cabby. "So… what do we do with it?" Watson asked, though I wasn't listening.

"How much older then you is she? Five years?" I turned to him as he sighed.

"How could you possibly know that?" I sighed, not exactly wanting to go through the process, but the fact to up show him always wins.

"The way you both present each other. She's protective over you." He huffed and I raised an eyebrow. "She forces you to eat, whenever your not looking she looks over to watch you, And when you left to go to Mary's, which you announced, she got a violent look." He blinked and I looked back to the car, sighing. "You, even though you haven't seen her in ages, try to be the reasonable one. Reason? Most likely to make up from lost times, to show you still care for her or maybe to thank her for the times she helped you out as a kid." I muttered, rolling my shoulders.

"She is seven years my senior." I smirked. Always something. Before another breath could happen, Lestrade pulled up, making my eyes narrow. He get out of the car, me only taking a quick glance at him before walking into the flat.

_Sighing, eyes casted down, brows together- annoyed_

_Badge presented on jacket, drove in police car, reaching into jacket pocket- Help for a case? Probable. To arrest someone? More likely._

*Normal POV*

Tension filled the air as I stood my ground. I kept my brows together, face void and hands into fists-just in case of course. With eyes scanning, I sat on the bench against the wall, locked into place.

"Will you stop being dramatic." John growled, slouched against the wall as well. I smirked evilly, still scanning.

"Then I'd be just as bored as you and Shirley over there." Holmes back straightened when I said this, me being between the two men as we sat in a jail cell.

"Don't call me that again." Holmes nearly growled, and there was a moment of silence. "Your going to keep at it aren't you?"

"Yup."

"Of for God sake's!" John yelled, getting up and going over to the bars looking around. "Hey! Let us out!" I shook my head, finally letting go of the act of being tough, slouching against the wall.

"He isn't all there, is he?" Holmes asked and I shrugged.

"Neither are you." He looked down at me as I up, both of us smirking. He looked back up at John and I "So, what's the plan Shirley?" He looked down at me with a icy glare before he looked back up.

"What plan?" He muttered, making me laugh some.

"John has wrote about you. You're the great Sherlock Holmes." I raised my hands up to influence how annoying he is, setting them down and looking up at him. "There is _always_ a plan." He smirked slightly, not looking down at me.

"It's time for you to use that American attitude of yours."


	3. Game

"Your lucky we need you." The man named Lestrade said.

"Honestly I thought they were slower then that." Holmes muttered, walking out of the cab as he straightened his coat. Watson came out next, sighing. Last was me, glaring at the back of Shirley's head.

"Yeah, and you weren't the one that faced the dogs!" He turned on his heel, smirking at me. I cracked my neck, wincing as the claw mark on my arm throbbed.

"How did you know bird calls stop them?" He asked, interest shining in his icy blue eyes.

"In training they taught us different calls, so that if we ever ran into trouble whilst on a mission; per say dog wise, we could get out of it." I groaned, my eyes rolling back and I lifted my shirt up some, seeing a rather nasty bite mark. " 'course I didn't take into account Shepherds in England are different then the ones in Afghanistan…." I muttered, putting my shirt back down, walking past Holmes, into the morgue. I froze in the door way, Holmes and John walked by me. "I knew him." They both spun to look at me, and I looked between them.

"Wait a minute. Who is this girl anyway?" Lestrade said as he walked in, making glare at him. "I was told to arrest her for being a spy." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm a spy for the good guys dumbass." He went to say something before Holmes cut him off.

"Watson, what do you get from this?" John sighed, looking around the dead body.

"Dauuuhhhm. He was fit…" I rolled my eyes, staring at one of the assassins on my team. "I dunno! I don't even know why I come anymore." He grumbled, sighing.

"You, women!" I looked up from the body to Holmes, who beckoned me.

"Oh no! Your not bringing her into this madness!" John said, glaring at Holmes who merely stared at me with ice blue eyes. I sighed as the room grew silent, all eyes on me now.

"Come now Holmes, we both know what this is." I said with ease He smirked smugly, putting his hands in his pockets.

"This is for you, isn't it?" He walked around, standing in front of me now. "You said you know him, which means it's a message. I'll wager that the flesh under his nails will trace back to you." As he looked down at me with a smug smirk and interested blue eyes, I found myself hypnotized.

"It's a warning." I smiled my own smile, making his fade and his eyebrows came together. "It's saying they have found me." His eyes turned icy again as John looked petrified.

"Then why do you look so happy?" I chuckled as he asked this, making his eyes narrow some. I walked around him, looking down at the body smiling.

"Because before it was a hunt." All eyes on me now, each person with different looks. John was worried, Lestrade not really interested, and Holmes with interest. I spun on my heel, glee illuminating my soul. As I brushed past Holmes, I smiled. "Now it's a game!"


	4. Clue

"For the love- what have you done?' I waved my hand at John, writing some info in my journal. "None of that! Look at this! You destroyed my room!"

"Our room." I muttered, brows together.

"Actually, it's safe to say that since I pay half, Holmes pays half and you don't pay at all, that this is _my_ room!" I rolled my eyes, shaking my head some as I searched on the computer. "Are you even-"

"No."

"God. Your just as bad as him." He growled, slamming the door.

"Now I'm insulted." I muttered, as I began to write some more.

"I believe it is I, who is the intended insulted one." I groaned, hating how I could not work in peace in this place. I turned to glare at him. He stood, leaning against the door frame, face blank with his hands in his pockets.

"I would assume so, considering you get into fits, start shooting off guns and play the fucking violin in the worst way possible!" He raised an eyebrow and I turned back, glaring at the screen.

"I'm not the only one who goes into fits." I rolled my eyes, going back to the screen scanning the information. "May I-"

"No." There was a moment of silence before his head was next to mine, scanning the screen, and most likely my notes. He grabbed my journal, making me sigh as I stared blankly at the screen, pen still in the air. I heard him flip through the pages, and I turned in the chair, sitting in it backwards. He stood straight, eyes scanning the pages.

"I solved most of these cases." He murmured, brows together as he tried to come up with what I was doing. "It starts with the murder of Mason Shawn's on December 12."

"And ends with the death of Karl." I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"What does this all mean? How did you come up with these?" He asked, looking over to me with curiosity.

"I based them on how they died. It's a pattern, meaning me leaving and coming to you was the plan all along, since, as you said, most of the deaths you solved." His eyes narrowed as he looked back to the paper. After a moment of silence, he burst out laughing, jumping into the air like a four year old girl.

"Brilliant! Ohhh! I knew something would turn up!" He threw the folder at me as he began to pace, me staring at him like he was a mad man. "Gah, it must be my birthday!" I blinked watching him stop, then start again, smiling as he shook his head, laughing a bit more. "Ohhh, they're good! But never too good. Let's see, let's see. Eight murders. Four I solved, and four were part of your team." I stared at him.

"How'd you know that?" He spun to stare at me with brilliant eyes, like a child at Christmas.

"It's elementary! Obviously if this has been planned, then it would _have_ to be even!" He came up and held onto my shoulders, smiling almost evilly. "Think! What could this all mean? OHHH!" He spun and left the room, me just shaking my head.

"I can honestly say that, that…. Was the single oddest thing I have witnessed in my life…"

*Sherlock's POV*

I paced, mind racing at the sudden turn of her events. I knew taking her in would lead to something good, but this! Awwwww, so good! I read and re-read the notes in my head, thinking it over. I didn't notice John come in, or what he was saying.

"Shut up! I'm in the process of-"

"Where in the hell is she?" I stopped, finally noticing the God awful music she insisted to play from the states.

"Why would I know?" I muttered, not liking that I didn't know.

"Because- forget it! Let her get kidnapped. I'm so over the both of you." He limped to the kitchen, making me raise an eyebrow. "Can I at least ask why there is a foot in the fridge?" I waved my hand at him, in thought.

"Checking coagulation once severed, but not the point right now!" I growled. "You _must_ hear what Lara and I-"

"No! I don't want any of your-" He paused as we both spun around to the window. My brows came together as I held my arm out to Watson, stopping him before he could pull out that boring gun. Never fun those. I closed my eyes, tilting my head.

_Small thumps, increasing sound- descending from roof_

_No heavy breathing, easily climbing down- fit_

_Faint aroma of smoke, dust and vanilla- female_

_Trying to hide noise, but not trying too hard- unafraid_

I smiled, opening my eyes as my seconds of deduction came to a conclusion.

"Glad you could join us!" I said, back turned to the window as Lara jumped in, making Watson, stare at her.

"And where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick!"

"She had been upon the roof, smoking." I smirked, turning towards her to see her glance at Watson guiltily. "Ahhh, yes… I see now." I murmured softly, putting my fingers together and to my mouth. I smiled as she shook her head slightly, glancing to Watson and back to me. Oh, how fun this day has become! "You've been smoking for 13 years now." She closed her eyes, shaking her head as she sat in the chair in front of the window. "Sister is gay and a drunk, a little brother to take care of and the burden of life weighing in your mind." I looked out the window now, becoming engulfed in the illusion of finally having something to go on with this recluse woman! "Yes, yes! Oh yes! Mummy and daddy weren't home- no! It was daddy who wasn't ever home. Yesss… Military no doubt. So, whilst daddy moved, mummy went with him, meaning big sister took care of the little ones. Ahhh, so that means you're the oldest, but not by much." I smiled, relishing in this. "Yes, it's all so simple! Harry had always been gay, so whilst little sis went out behind your back to go to parties, you were left with little brother. You took up smoking, why? Yes, why. School, taking care of a baby, paying insurance-! AH!" I looked to her, smiling. "That's where they found you, isn't it?" She looked up at me with a sinister look.

"Yes. They trained me in London, as so I could watch John." She looking to Watson with a sad look.

"Hmm. He had to have been one, since you started smoking at seven… Ah, so they trained you in everything. They pumped you with knowledge and almost killed you physically. It took years of training. Eight years. So, when little Johnny was nine, you left. Mum and dad didn't know, hence why no one mentioned you." I heaved a sigh, crossing my legs as I plopped into the second chair next to Lara. It was dead silent, backing me smile as I knew I got it right. I'm on fire!

"I figured out the first part of the message." My head shot to Lara, forgetting about the case that had come up. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees as she rested her head on her clasped hands. "I only smoke now when I need to think."

"And you got to a high place. You detach yourself, to look at everything to see the nothing." I noted, making her nod once.

"I told you I was going to the roof, but you weren't paying attention. I there for an hour, smoked half a pack before I realized it."

"Realized? Realized what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. How could she have gotten it before I? She put her mouth to her hands, closing her eyes.

"My last mission. I had to find out the name of a man." I sat up then, remembering the cabby case. "It took three years, and I could only get a nickname. He runs some sort of organization, something for criminals." I leaned forward, sitting sideways some as I stared at her intently. "E.M. also called Em." My brows came together. "Think, Shirly." I closed my eyes, ignoring that comment. "The names." I opened my eyes, waiting. With a sigh, she grabbed a piece pf paper and a pen, scribbling down the names. She then stood, leaning over the small table in between the two chairs, showing me the first names. Watson was now next to her, lost no doubt. "I couldn't put it together. The names, in order, go as: Moriarty

Mark

Olsen

Rick

Ian

Alan

Rupert

Talon

Karl" She shook her head, closing her eyes as I sat up straight, brows together as my eyes darted back and forth.

"I don't get it." Watson said slowly.

"Of course you don't, your simple." I uttered, only to make he roll his eyes.

"Well, fine then, if you are so smart, what is it?" I closed my eyes, sighing, as he asked.

"Could be a rhyme scheme." She cleared her throat as I said this, both of us looking to her now.

"I thought of it all, and it wasn't until I remembered something you couldn't have known." I raised one side of my lips, giving her a knowing look. "Karl's code name." She smiled then, crossing out the word 'Karl' for 'Yensin'. I stared at it, finally connecting it.

"I'm afraid I'm still lost." Watson said, leaning on his cane. I leaned back, finger tips touching as I crossed my legs, staring into thought.

"Think John. The first letters of their name." His brows came together as he tilted his head, looking at the names.

"Uhh, M. O. R. I. A. R.T. Y." He then began to mutter out the name, and I closed my eyes.

"Moriarty." My eyes snapped open, smiling. So, the game finally begins.


	5. Bored

"Why am I here?" I asked, hugging my jacket close to me.

"Shut up and sit down." Holmes said, making me groan as I sat down in the cold metal seat. It was dark, cold and a prisoner was sitting in front of us. "Just start from the beginning." I rolled my eyes, hoping this was worth getting out of bed for.

"Well.. We were at a bar see? Nice place. I got to chatting with a waitress. Well, Cara went at me see, saying I weren't a real man-"

"Wasn't." Holmes cut in, making me shake my head. Arrogant bastard…

"Wha?"

"It's not weren't it's wasn't." I smirked some. As the man went on, Holmes correcting him, it would seem both he and I agreed the man was in for the noose. So, as he got up, I did as well.

"You have to help me ! Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll be hung for sure!" Holmes spun then, making groan. God, how I wish this was done so I can lay on that cozy little couch and curl under a blanket for life.

"Oh, no, no. no Mr. Bersek. Hanged, yes." I smirked as he walked off, me trailing behind him. Arrogant, but funny non-the less.

* * *

"What are you doing?" I asked, laying on the sofa. Holmes was drawing something on the wall above me.

"Bored." He said, throwing the marker and slumping in the chair across from the sofa. He wore a slim robe, showing skinny muscles that he normally hides under a suit.

"Well, could you be bored somewhere else? This is where I sle-" I fell off the sofa as I heard a gun shot.

"Bored." He muttered again, cocking the gun. I glared at him as I rose just enough to see him over the table. "Bored." He said again and shot at the wall. It has been two weeks since that great little puzzle I solved, and he has driven me up the walls. "Bored, bored, bored, bored!" He said, firing a shot each time. He sighed, his head lulling to the side not facing me, his long arms hanging off of the sides of the chair, long legs stretched all the way out. I stood, staring at him, then turning to look at what he drew on the wall. In yellow he drew a smiley face. The bullets fit the lines perfectly, making me smirk since he didn't even look. I turned on my heel slowly, smiling at him.

"You've good aim, yes?" He gave a indigent sound, almost a ignorant laugh, as he rolled his eyes, not looking at me. "How about some fun then?"

* * *

"Are you sure?" He asked, thin robe hanging off one of his shoulders.

"Always." I said, narrowing my eyes with a smirk. He raised one of his brows, quirking his lips just a bit.

"Watson would say this is mad." He raised his arm as he said this, tilting hiss head to the side as the sun shined in his bright blue eyes.

"Boring." I muttered, calculating everything about his stance, arm length and elevation of it.

"Agreed." He cocked the gun as he said this, and my heart raced. There was something in his eye that told me he regretted this slightly. Couldn't have possibly been a moral standard! Not the great Sherlock Holmes. I held my own arm up, smiling as I positioned myself correctly.

"Ready?" I asked, cocking my own gun.

"Always." With that, we shot our guns at the same time, our hearts racing in case either one of us got anything wrong. But, we watched unharmed as the bullets collided perfectly, both of us intact as they fell limply to the floor. "Brilliant!" He exclaimed, running over to the bullets and bending down, head on the floor as he took them in.

"Yeah. We use to do that all the time when bored. Helps keep us in practice." I said, laying back down on the couch, hoping to get some shut eye now that he was amused. Like a child he is.

Yeah. An annoying three year old.

He shot at the wall once more, making me groan and turn my back to him. "What in hell is going on in here?" John asked as he ran up the stairs.

"Bored!" Holmes said, and began to shoot erratically around his back as he did a 180 as well. "Bored, bored, bored!" Watson took the revolver as Holmes sat back down, looking rather bored… I got up, going to John's room. "I read your blog. 'A study in pink'. I heard Holmes say as I began to change.

"Yeah… well, did you like it?" My brother said, pride in his voice.

"Ahhh, no!" I rolled my eyes. Way to bring him down even more Holmes.

"Wha-why? I, uh, thought you'd be flattered…" My brother said, as I put on my jacket and came round the room.

"Flattered? 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds, but what's incredible though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is in some things.'" Holmes said, making me smirk.

"Now hold on, I didn't mean it-"

"Ohh, you mean 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way? Look, it really doesn't matter to me who's prime minister or who's sleeping with who-"

"Or the earth revolves around the sun?" I froze at that, half a mitten on.

"Oh not that again!" He groaned, making me blink.

"You didn't know that?" He shot a upside down glare at me.

"It's not important!" He growled, as he put his head back straight, lying on the sofa like a lump.

"Not important-? It's primary school stuff! _How_ can you not know that?" John asked, making sigh and shake my head.

"If I did I deleted it."

"What?" Both John and I asked, as Holmes rubbed his eyes. Holmes sat up then, pointing a finger to his skull.

"Listen. This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put stuff in here that is useful. _Really _useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all sorts of rubbish. That makes it hard to get to the stuff that matters. Now, can't you see?" There was a pause, and I knew my brother had to put something in.

"But it's the solar system!" Holmes groaned loudly, sticking his head in his hands.

"What dose that matter! We go round the sun, or if we ran round the moon! If we ran around the garden with a teddy bear! It wouldn't make a difference! All that matters is the work! Without that my brain rots." I looked up at that, thinking as I put my beanie on.

"Why a teddy bear…" I muttered to myself.

"Put that in your blog, or better yet! Stop inflicting your opinions on the world!" He growled maliciously, throwing a magazine off the table and lying on the sofa, back turned in a huddle.

"Right, I'm off then!" I said, making John look at me oddly as Holmes sat up, brows together.

"Where could you be possibly going?" My brother asked. I glanced at Holmes, who merely went back into the fetal position, ignoring me.

"Away from this lovely atmosphere you both created." With that I left. Oh how lovely this day turned out to be…


	6. Brother

"Sherlock!" John busted into the tense room, only to find me on the sofa, Holmes plucking the violin and a man named Mycroft in the opposite chair.

"John." Holmes said easily.

"Uhh… Are you alright?" John asked, walking into the room, looking around. "I heard 'bout the explosion on the tele." I snorted then, only to have all three of them look to me.

"Uh, sorry… Forgot how funny English people talk…" Holmes raised an eyebrow.

"Is everyone okay?" John asked again.

"Hm? What, oh, right. Gas leak they say." Holmes then looked to Mycroft. "I can't."

"Can't?" The odd man said, messing with his umbrella.

"The world is just too big, I can't spare the time."

"Never mind your usual trivia, this is of national importance." My brows came together as John looked out the window, looking a bit jumpy. Is it sad I'm use to explosions? Is it sad Holmes is as well? Yeah… I think it kinda is…

"How's the diet?" Holmes asked, plunking another string. God… I truly hated that thing…

"Fine. Maybe you can get through to him John. My brother can be inquisitive at times."

"Why don't you investigate it?" Holmes retorted.

"Oh, I can't be away from office too long, being with the Koren elections so c-" The three of us stared at him, as he smiled some. "Oh, well, you needed know about that, do you? Besides. This case involves leg work."

"I dear say John, how was the lilac?" Holmes said.

"Sofa, Sherlock, it was the sofa." Mycroft corrected, as Holmes looked.

"Oh yes, right, of course." Holmes muttered, making me stare at the two men. Who in the hell birthed these people?

"How in the- never mind." John surrendered, sitting down.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you two became pals. How's living with him? Hellish I imagine?" He asked my brother, shooting a glance at me.

"It sucks."

"Never bored." John and I said at the same time. Holmes froze then, as Mycroft finally held my gaze. I tilted my head, as it finally clicked.

"You're the mother fucker who sent on the damned case!" I shouted, standing and pointing at the elder Holmes brother. Sherlock smirked, as Mycroft smiled. "It's bloody figures a Holmes would- never mind." I growled, slumping into the sofa.

"I see you've taken on another one brother." Mycroft said, looking to Holmes.

"Not mine." He said effortlessly, plucking at the violin.

"Not from what I hear. Taking on her case I see?" I groaned, falling limply to my side as I dug my face into a pillow.

"I hate the government…" I muttered. Holmes swatted out the violin bow out, pointing it at his brother, who stood. With a quick glare down, Mycroft handed John a file, talking about some dude who died on a railroad. Head smashed in, and missing missile plans.

"He didn't die there." I muttered into the pillow, only to look up when there was silence. I looked up, only to see them all looking at me. "What?" Mycroft turned to his brother then.

"You need to find those plans." Holmes merely cleaned the bow off, face blank. "Don't make me order you." Mycroft almost pleaded. Holmes put the violin to his neck, smirking.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Think it over." With that, Holmes began to play an awful tune as his brother left, and stopped once he was gone.

"Why'd you lie? You haven't a case, that's way the wall took a pounding isn't it? Why lie to him?" John asked.

"Why shouldn't I?" Holmes said, legs crossed with the bow on his shoulder.

"Oh.. Right, I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." I rolled my eyes at my brother as Holmes shot a look to him. Holme's phone rang then, making groan. Never good…

"Sherlock Holmes… Right, of course… I refuse." He stood then, pocketing the phone. "You coming?" He called to John, me only sighing happily as I laid on the couch.

"Only if you want me too." John said, standing.

"Of course. Where would I be without my blogger?" They left and I smiled up at the ceiling, lying out with a sigh. "Or my serial killer?" He called loudly, making my frown. I grumbled as I stood, walking to the stairs, only to see him waiting at the bottom with the door open.

"_Ex_- serial killer." I corrected.

* * *

"Is he really analyzing the letter?" I muttered to my brother, who simply sighed. As Holmes cut open the envelope, he took out a pink phone…

"Tha-That's the pink phone!" John said, making me roll my eyes.

"You mean from 'The Study In Pink'?" Lestrade questioned.

"It would appear so. Made to look like- 'A Study In Pink'?" Holmes said, cutting off mid-stream. "You read his blog?" I chortled some, only to have Holmes glare at me.

"Of course I do! We all do! Do you really not know the earth goes round the sun?" Donovan laughed, as Holmes glared at us all.

"This one is brand new. Made to look like the real one. Someone went through a lot of trouble to do this." With that, we heard the five bleeps and a picture of a place I had seen before…

"Oh shit!" I said, as they all looked to me.

"Wha? What is it?" Lestrade asked, looking to me and Holmes.

"People use to send us teeth in intervals… A faint of a clue as to where their next target is…" When I made eye contact with Holmes, we both knew what was going on.

"A warning." We said, me dashing out of the room, Holmes and John following.

"A warning? Before what happens?"

"Boom!"


	7. Babysitting

"You rubbish idiot!" I yelled as I ran into the hospital room. It had probably been the longest week of my life, and all of it thanks to Moriarty and his little game with Holmes. Now I get a call from Lestrade, saying there was another bombing and My brother and Holmes were lying in a hospital bed.

"Excuse me miss, but-"

"Oh sod off!" I growled, looking at the two men in the bed. I froze as they were both smirking, Johns head was wrapped up as was Holmes's upper body, showing lean muscle and pale skin. I glared at them, John looking away, smirking, as Holmes was on his cell phone with an arrogant smirk as well.

"So, there is some English in you." Holmes said, typing away.

"Wha'?" I asked, shaking my head as anger got to me.

"I told you." John said, looking over to Holmes.

"It was a long shot anyway. A loss not wasted though." Holmes said, sighing as he looked over to John.

"Wha' in the bloody 'ell are ya talkin' 'bout?" I hissed, them both looking to me with a smile.

"I made an assumption that, being you only left London at the age of 15, you would still have an English accent. Now, John told me it only comes out when you are angry, I, on the other hand, presumed it would appear when sad." I blinked, staring at him.

"I hate you guys. So. Much." I said wearily, flopping down upon the seat as I calmed myself down. "Just… Tell me what happened. " I said with my eyes closed. Holmes told me of how he met up with Moriarty, the gay man we had encountered in the lab during the first case of the bombing. Then, talked about what happened, John being attached to a bomb, and how he was able to get it off of him.

"So, seeing as I'd rather not see a man like that walk around, I pointed the gun at the bomb in front of him." He said, brows together as he typed something. I had to admit, sadly, it was kinda hard to look away from his chest and arms. I really didn't expect him to have so much muscle, for someone so damned skinny.

"What happened?" I asked as he didn't continue. He looked up at me, brows hitting his hairline.

"Hm, what? Oh, yes, right. I shot it." I blinked as he smiled that sarcastic smile, going back to his phone.

"And?" I prompted, only to have him sigh.

"Obviously I knew it was not a real bomb. The man wanted to play, so he couldn't afford me dieing. So, as I shot it, I was able to push John into the wall, the sniper missing his head." he lifted his head up, eyes still on the phone. "He hit his head on the wall, and I got shot a centimeter away from my kidney." He said, pointing to his left side. It was slightly tinted pink, meaning it was still bleeding. "So, as this occurred, Moriarty got away and we were taken here." He snapped his phone shut, looking to me with raised brows. I looked between them, brows together.

"Wait… Doesn't this mean I have too…."

"Take care of us? Yes, I believe so." Holmes said, that stupid smug, sarcastic smile upon his face again.

"Oh… Dear God…"

* * *

"Stop moving!" I hollered at Holmes, who groaned, finally holding his arms up as I began to take his old wraps off. "Great, tore the stitches. What in God's name where you doing?" I asked as the wrap was completely off, showing the stitches on his side, two of them broken and the gash bleeding. I also couldn't help but notice he had pale abs and no body hair. How is this even possible? This man never dose anything but loaf around the house!

"I was trying to measure how far I can stretch out before I ripped them." He muttered with a sighed as I began to sop up the bleeding.

"Well, don't do it again! It's bad enough I have to take care of you guys without you making it more difficult!" I muttered as I pulled out a first-aid spray.

"But it is so boring to lye around! My mind needs stimulation! And you provide not- OW!" He hissed, dropping his arms and glaring at me. I rolled my eyes, dropping my hands. "That. Hurt." He growled, venom in his voice as his icy blue eyes locked with me. I raised a brow, the only thing his stare did was make me hot… Wow, I need to get out more.

"Of course it hurt. I have to disinfect it before I re-stitch it." his head shot to me then, as he was looking out the window when I began to talk.

"What?" He asked, looking to my hand that now held a needle, then back to me with narrowed eyes. "No." He went to swat it out of my hand but I grabbed his wrist, smirking.

"Stop being a brat and hold still. I was a medical officer for a year mission." I let go of his wrist, and he slowly put his arm down. "Good boy." Another icy glare made me smile. I propped up his left arm on my right shoulder, and bent down as I began to re-stitch his wound. "What did he say to you?" I asked softly.

"Oh, you know. Normal villain stuff. Burning me, having fun with me, ripping my heart out. Boring." He said with a sigh. "Men have no sense of imagination anymore." He winced as I pulled the needle through. I couldn't help but notice how his muscle moved as he inhaled and exhaled. There was a pause as I did the last stitch. "He also told me to give you a message." I froze as I was sitting up, looking into his eyes as he slowly turned his head to look at me. "He said he saw what you did." Holmes said, brows together as he tried to figure it out. My eyes turned stony as my insides turned aflame. I was terrified, but I refused to let him see it. I went to the aid-kit, taking out some wraps as I began to wrap him up, face blank. I felt his icy stare on me, and I could almost feel his brain reading mine. "Obviously had to be back in the war…"

"Holmes…." I growled, much more sinister then I ever thought I could be. He raised a brow as I didn't look at him, just finished his wrap.

"Fine. I'll find out sometime though." I dropped his arm from my shoulder and stood from the table, locking eyes. He smirked, as I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, take your pills, and go to sleep." I said, throwing him the bottle of Oxycodone. He caught it, smiling, but when he shook it, frowned.

"There are three missing." He looked to me and I at him.

"How can you tell?" As I said this, he gave me the famous Sherlock look. I only smiled as I turned my back to him, holding my hand up, a pill between each space of my fingers, not including the space between thumb and index finger.

"Four? Always something!" He grumbled, making me smile as I went into see how John was doing.

"Maybe babysitting him won't be too bad…"


	8. Defense

"Now aren't you glad I have this?" I said, smirking over to Holmes who merely sat up straight, holding his side indiscreetly.

"It's a death trap." He muttered, looking out the window.

"Ughhhhhhh." John groaned in the back.

"Stop being a baby." Holmes muttered, making me hit his arm. "What?" He snapped, and I glared at him.

"He has a concussion!" I whispered, only to have Holmes roll his eyes.

"That doesn't mean I have to _hear_ it." He muttered, making me sigh.

"Your impossible." I said with a sigh as I pulled up to the crime scene. As we came out, Donovan looked at the car and began to laugh.

"What is that?" She asked as she looked at me, a bitchy smile upon her face. "Looks like death rolled over an old buggy!" I walked past her, head down as I dug my hands in my pockets. "No respectable person would drive that thing. Americans have no pride." I stopped as Lestrade stood in front of me, waiting for John and Holmes to come.

"Now wait jus-" John went to defend me, but he was cut off.

"I highly doubt you should be the one to say anything about respectful people and pride." Holmes said, and I turned, brows together. Is he… Is he defending me? Watson looked to him as well, same look on his face.

"And what's that mean?" Donavan said, hands on her hips. Holmes smiled that very fake and sarcastic one, making my brows come together even more.

"It would seem Anderson's wife has left him. He doesn't wear the ring anymore." There was a pause as we all looked at him.

"I don't see-"

"Of course you don't!" He said, gleefully. "Is that a new necklace?" He asked, but as she looked down, he continued before she could say anything. "Far to expensive for a police officer. It would also appear your wearing a new shirt!" She glared up at him, as he merely raised his brows. "From what I remember, and my nose agrees, that that is Anderson's!" My eyes went wide as my mouth dropped as he said this. He turned on his heel, walking my way, John shaking his head and following. "Oh! And I'd look after that rash on your neck!" He stopped in front of me, looking at Lestrade over my head, me frozen. "What's the problem?"

"What?" Lestrade asked, fazed. Holmes sighed.

"You called me for a reason."

"Oh! Uh- right this way!" He said, turning and making his way to the grocery store. I looked up at Holmes, who merely seemed bored. I turned on my heel, John already ahead of us. As Holmes took stride next to me, I cleared my throat some.

"Uhh.. Sherlock?" I looked up at him as he down at me. "Thanks…" I muttered, looking away. As I looked back up at him, he simply looked straight ahead.

"Why are you thanking me?" With that, he looked down at me, making me knit my brows together.

"Well, uhh. For defending me?" His own brows came together, looking ahead once more.

"I was not defending you. I was simply stating that she has no right to critic people…" I sighed, looking ahead. I missed him looking down at me with a smirk, that would have told me he was defending me.

* * *

"Four people, just up and died." Lestrade said as we came into the grocery store. "There is nothing that connects them. Age, race, even where they died doesn't match!" He put his hands on his hips as I looked around.

"I wouldn't say that." Holmes muttered as he walked over to the first dead person, right by a checkout aisle. He did his thing, going to each one. The last one made both me and John look away. It was a little girl. Could only be five. "Shut up." Holmes snapped, glaring back and me and John.

"But-"

"You were thinking it." John and I looked at each other with blank faces, sighing some. "John, what can you tell me from all of these bodies?" Holmes asked, standing, hands in his pockets.

"Uhh. Well…" There was a pause as he looked around some.

"You didn't look at any of them did you?" Holmes said, raising an eyebrow. John opened his mouth, but sighed and looked down.

"No, not really." With that said, Holmes looked to me, making me roll my eyes.

"Come on! I need opinions!" He insisted, making me look down to the girl, scanning her. I looked up and noticed we were in the frozen food section, by the ice cream. I kneeled down to the girl, moving her head.

"Muscles are stiff." I muttered to myself, feeling and icy stare on me. My brows came together as I saw flakes around her mouth and under her nose. I tiled my head as I looked down at her hand. "She was poisoned." I noted, looking up at Holmes who smiled.

"What? Who would-"

" I don't know." Holmes said, cutting John off as I stood. "Not yet anyway." He turned to Lestrade then. "You'll have your killer. John! You and your sister go to the peoples homes and find out what you can!" He said, walking away.

"Wa- Where are you going then?" John called after him, but Holmes didn't answer. Once he walked out of site, I sighed, looking to Lestrade.

"I guess we'll need the addresses."


	9. Fighting and Estrogen

"Well. That was probably the most time I've wasted on something in my life." I said with a sigh, flopping onto the couch. John grunted, sitting in one of the chairs. Once I settled onto my now made bed thing, I closed my eyes with a sigh. "Six hours of talking to crying people." I growled some, shaking my head. "Fucking ridicules."

"Don't curse." I groaned as my brother shot that out tiredly.

"Yes, quite un-lady like." Both John and I glared at Holmes, who stood in the doorway with a smile, blue eyes locked with my own. I was laying on the couch to where I faced him, and I wish I wasn't. "Well, not like you ever care about such trifles." I inhaled as he gave me that stupid sarcastic smile. As I opened my mouth, I was cut off.

"Don't." John said with his eyes closed. I closed my mouth as Holmes smirked, walking towards the window.

"What did you guys find out?" Holmes said, hands behind his back as he stood next to my head, staring out the window. We told him all that we had gathered, only to be further annoyed by his response. "Good work guys, but that is all useless." As he said this, my eyes shot open. I stood slowly, glaring daggers at his back.

"You stupid son of a-"

"Kara." John sighed sympathetically. I closed my eyes, clenching my fists.

"I'm seeing red John. Please, just this once." There was a silence as Holmes studied me over his shoulder.

"No."

"How about-"

"No."

"Not even-"

"No." I clenched my jaw as I looked back to Holmes, who smirked and looked back to the window. With a quick glance to my brother who laid his head back in the chair, eyes closed, I looked back to Holmes with a smirk. I pulled my arm back and went to punch the broad of his back, but was stopped. Quicker then I could have guessed he could move, Holmes spun on his heel, catching my fist with a bored look on his face. I quirk an eyebrow at him as he raises the side of his lip slightly. I go to punch him with my other hand but he easily grabs that one as well. At this, fire ignites in our eyes. We both glance towards John, who seemed to be asleep, then back to each other.

*Sherlock's POV*

I sat on the couch next to Kara, a good bit of space between us. John stood in front of us, glaring. We stayed like that for a good bit, and I sighed.

"Here." I said, holding out a paper towel, Kara looking at me with furred brows. "You have a cut on your arm. It's annoying." I muttered, finally looking at her. I smirked as she looked down at her arm, rolling her sleeve up to find a rather nasty gash.

"Ho- never mind." She muttered, snatching the paper towel and putting it to her arm.

"What in the hell happened?" John said, only to have both of us look up at him innocently.

_Hair unkempt, circles under eyes, wearing same clothes as the day before- Slept on Sara's sofa_

_Hand shaking slightly, out of breath, favoring right leg- stressed, limp coming back_

_Chocolate wrapper in pocket, temperamental, sensitive to comments- estrogen level far too high_

I stood, walking around the table and to the fire place, hands behind my back.

"How bad?" I asked, picking up a letter on the mantel.

"What?" John asked, making me smile and turn on my heels.

"Your leg, how bad?" he stared at me, before groaning and sitting down next to his sister.

"What have you got Sherlock?" He sighed, making me smile.

"Right! Well, as grateful as I am for you to get histories, it was all for not I'm afraid." As I said this, they both gave me an identical look. It was far too easy to see they were blood related in this state. "I know they were all poisoned, simply stated by Kara." She slouched back, glaring at me. Her small frame tensed, her visible arm showing hidden muscle. My eyes narrowed some as I realized I have been seemly noticing her more then I should.

"Alright, and?" John said, making me look to him.

"And what?"

"What have you got!" He grunted, making me look away. After a pregnant pause, he spoke once more. "You haven't a thing, have you?"

"It's brilliant!" I say, pacing the room. "No contact, cars not parked near each other, different ages, races and life goals! _Nothing_ connects them!" I say, looking to them with bright eyes. Kara, raised a dirty blond eyebrow, not saying anything. "Don't you see?" Nothing. "How dull. Look!" I enthused, walking over and stepping onto the small table, sitting on it crossed legged. "Nothing is more stimulating then a case where everything goes against you!" I said with glee, only to have them both sigh. "Come on, let us think about this. What can we gather from what little we have?" A silence passed before us. After a moment, I looked to Kara who was deep in thought. Her brows were together as her blue eyes splayed back and fourth, as if reading something. I couldn't help but find it interesting at how she took thought. I also couldn't help but find that I couldn't help to look at her as she did this. Gladly enough that I was looking at her, I was able to see her face contort. Her brows rose slowly, mouth opening as she looked to me. "What?" I said, eyes narrowing.

"I think I've got it." She muttered in a smooth voice.

"Got? Got what?" John said, clearly confused.

"The baskets' Holmes!" She clearly said, and I sat up straight, looking to the wall.

"Yes… Yes!" I said, standing and hopping off the table, going back to pacing with my hands behind my back.

"What are you guys talking about?" John said irritably, making me sigh, waving my hand at him.

"I remember looking at what they had in all of their baskets. If we can find a similarity-"

"Then we have a placing to where the poison is!" I cut in, grabbing my coat and scarf. "Come! The game is afoot!"


	10. Baskets and Madness

*Sherlock's POV*

We met up with Lestrade at the store, taking Kara's god awful 'car' she insists to call it.

"Alright then. What's this all about?" Lestrade asked as we came in.

"Did you bring the stuff?" I asked, making him scuff.

"Yeah. This way." We followed him to a check out line, me turning all around, looking at the floor, ceiling, walls, anything that might help. "Here you are. Now, mind telling me what this is all about."

"Yes. I do." I said, brushing past everyone and staring at the three baskets.

"Sherlock, what are we doing here?" John asked, making me sigh and look to him.

"If we find a common item, or at the very least, a common area all four were at, we'll at least have a place to work with!" I whispered, glancing over to Lestrade who was talking with Anderson.

"Holmes…" I heard Kara say, but John attracted my attention first.

"What if we don't find anything?"

"Holmes…" Kara beckoned once more.

"We will. There must be something that connects them!"

"Holmes."

"And what if there isn't?"

"Sherlock!"

"What?" I spun on my heel, glaring at her. She was looking down at the baskets, making my brows come together.

"There's nothing…" She whispered, looking up at me with dark blue eyes. My eyes narrowed as I looked at them.

"There has to be!"

"Holmes, I checked them myself." She murmured, making me want to hold back my retort. Which, might I say, is very unlike me.

"Yes. But you aren't me, now are you?" I shot at her, then taking in everything.

_Case one: Milk, toothpaste, orange juice_

_Case two: Laundry detergent, cereal, eggs_

_Case three: Pickles, tuna, bread, assortment of candy, beer_

_Case four: -_

"Where is the fourth basket?" I asked, spinning on my heel to look at Lestrade.

"There isn't one." Kara said, making me turn to her.

"What do you-"

"It was the kid, remember?" I stopped as she said this, looking away in thought.

"No… This can't be right." I muttered, looking around, brows together. "That doesn't make sense…"

"Where are you going?" John said, making me spin to see Kara walking away. I couldn't help but notice how I didn't want her to leave. I felt better when she was by my side, safe. My brows came together as that thought flew into my mind.

"I'll be right back…" She murmured, with an all to familiar look upon her face. I couldn't place it though, which frustrated me.

"I hate when she does that." John muttered, me just looking after her until she was out of site.

* * *

"Where has that child gone?" John said, angry. I watched him, body tense. It had been six hours since we left the store, using Johns spare key to take the car figuring she just walked. John's phone was plastered to his ear as he kept on trying to ring her phone, making me wonder why I never knew she had one. "Come on, come on…" He growled, making me sigh and stand from the seat I occupied.

"Listen, she obviously wants to be left alone. Go out on your date with Sara. I'll wait here for you and text you if anything turns up." I rationalized, standing in front of him. Once he agreed and left, and I groaned, holding my head as I sat on the couch. Him being here ranting was grating on every nerve I had left in my body. I didn't need a reminder that in the middle of a murder case that was damn near impossible to solve, one of my….. Friends… Has gone MIA. A nag began to form in my mind when she left, telling me that was stupid. Now it was pulsating, my whole body quaking in it's power, telling me I had to get her back before anything happened. It was maddening! Why, nor how could this happen? Me? Caring so much. It was absolutely ridicules. I shouldn't care at all. She was just here.

"Ughhhh." I groaned once more, as more thoughts busted through my barrier I worked so hard to create. I found I was more keen to her, then anyone else. She intrigued me, more then she should. I found that if she were in the room, my attention was poured onto her. Every movement, every breath, every look. I've even, unintentionally, memorized everything she has said, either to me or just in general. I couldn't comprehend why I have become so engrossed with this woman. A intriguing anomaly, something I found I enjoyed to have around.

"Figures." I muttered as those thoughts swirled around in my brain. I was almost thankful that my phone buzzed, but when I pulled it out of my jacket, I froze. Every cell in my body became both horrified and enraged.

_I have the girl_


	11. Developmental Hysteria

*Sherlock's POV*

_Come at once_

_SH_

I shut my phone, pacing the living room. I knew once I sent that text that John would be here in minutes, fuming at our new predicament.

_What's happened?_

He replied, making me sigh.

_I shall explain once you are present._

_SH_

With that, I went into thought. It is far to obvious who had gotten Lara, so don't have to dwell on that bit. Now, as to _why_ she was kidnapped. It might be a case for us to stop investigating, but we have no leads. I honestly, and aggravatingly, say that I am at a dead end. So, the prep obviously can't be trying to make us stop, unless he _thinks_ we know. I stopped, eyes glazed over. Why would he think we would know? "Unless…" I put my knuckle to my mouth, brows together as John busted into the room, heavily breathing. Sara came in after him, looking worried.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"We have a problem."

*Normal POV*

I glared at the pacing man, trying to find a way to get the ropes from my hands off. At this point now, my wrists were raw and bleeding, face bruised, blood kept pooling in my mouth from some deep cuts I inflicted when he was punching me around, and clothes ripped some.

"He'll come. Yeah…" He kept muttered, making roll my eyes. He was a large man, black balding hair, at least 6"6' and a huge belly. The butcher of the deli.

"I doubt it." I said with a sigh, making him turn and back hand me.

"Don't say that! He told me Holmes would come. To save you." My brows came together at this.

"He? Who?" He smiled with yellow teeth.

"Why, who else?" Came a giddy voice. My head shot over to the door of the abandoned factory. None other then Jim Moriarty walked over, smiling. "Very well done Frank!" He applauded the large man, who smiled sharply. "Now, leave us for now." The large man named Frank nodded, slouching off and out of the factory. I glared to Moriarty who tutted at me, looking me over. "My, my. He sure did a number on you." I scuffed, sitting up straight.

"I've been through worse." I muttered, making him smile a deadly one.

"Yes. In fact, I do wonder why you chose the job you did. You're a war hero!" He shouted, throwing his arms in the air as he spun, his back to me now. "Killing enemies, dismantling bombs, getting information!" He turned to me then, brown eyes sparkling. "Your smart. Smarter then you think." I rolled my eyes, now slouching in the seat. "That's why I want you to join me." There was a long pause before I busted out into laughter. Once I settled down, I saw him staring at me.

"Wait, your serious?" He raised an eyebrow as I asked this.

"I am nothing but. You see, it would appear our common… Friend, has taken quite a liking to you." I glared at his back, his hands behind them as he looking around amiably. "And, with the positive factor that you have quite the brain on you, we could destroy him." He glanced back at me over his shoulder, me glaring. "Think about it. We could live like royalty! With Holmes out of the way, we could create the worlds best criminals!" I looked down. "No more worries about money, people, jobs. Just… Us." My eyes widened as he said this, but I refused to look up. "We were made for each other."

*Sherlock's POV*

"Are you out of your mind?" John yelled as I merely sat in a chair, plucking at my violin. "You expect us to just walk up to the killer, and have him hand her over?" I stayed silent as he continued to fume. "It doesn't work like that Sherlock! We don't even know if she's-"

"She is." I cut him off, sending him a sharp glare. He stepped back, confused by my sudden change of moods. In fact, I was too. I knew what he was going to say, and it came cross with me. "He thinks we know who he is, so he needs her alive for his amnesty." I said, going back to casually plucking at my instrument. John sighed, plopping onto the couch, head in his hands. I watched from the corner of my eye as Sara put a hand on his knee, as another rubbed his back. My brows came together as I looked back to my violin. It was an odd gesture, one I believe could mean to make someone feel better. Reason for doing it worthless of course.

"We have to get her back." he said, sitting up straight with a hard look on his face. I half smiled, looking over to him.

"Then it's settled?"

"Yes. Just do it quickly." I nodded, putting the violin down and getting my phone out, texting the number.

_What do you want?_

_SH_

There was a tense silence as we all stared at the phone, waiting. In minutes the reply came.

_326 Carter lane._

_Brixton factory._

_Come. Alone._

I sighed as I put the phone back in my jacket. "Well?" John asked, tense.

"I must go to a destined place alone to meet him." We stared at each other for moments, before he said something.

"What's the plan?"


	12. Safety and Blows

*Sherlock's POV*

I arrived at the factory in a cab, body tense. The plan was set, John was going to get Lestrade and his men and will be here in exactly 10 minutes. All I had to do was stall the brute, which would be easier said then done. I walked in, hands in my pockets, only to be greeted by a gruesome site. Lara laid on the ground, knocked out no doubt, wearing nothing but a dirty gown. There was dried blood and sweat all over her body, her hair matted in it. She had gashes and bruises all over, a cut on her eyebrow still bleeding.

"Don't worry, she's still alive… In a matter of speaking." Came a deep voice, making my eyes dart to a man walking over, now standing in front of her. My mind was reeling, my body on fire. I couldn't explain why, but seeing her like this made me see red. I wanted him to die. To suffer for even touching her. It didn't make sense and it took everything I had to keep my demeanor casual.

"I'm here, so what do you want?" I asked, looking around.

"I want you to drop the case." I smirked, knowing that is what he wanted. Criminals can be so predictable sometimes.

"You know, I hadn't a clue to who killed those people." He froze as I said this, me now looking at him. "From what I've deduced, you think that I had." I glanced down to Lara, then back to him. "She must have found out, come to confront you. That's why you took her." My brows came together as I tried to figure it out. "You're the butcher…" I recalled they all had something from the deli, except for the kid. My brows came up as I smiled, it now finally clicking. "How very clever of you to figure out a way to use a poison that only reacts to the cold." I thought back to where they all where. "You poisoned everything in the deli, including the cookies that the kid had." I remember faint crumbs on the kids mouth. "Now, the only thing to ask is why? What is the point of doing it?" I asked, only to have him smile.

"I have a sponsor." I froze as he said this, a silence coming over us.

"Moriarty…" I muttered, making him nod.

"Yes. He told me about you as well."

"Of course he did." I said with a sigh, looking away.

"Told me to take this here girl. Said you'd do anything to save 'er." I looked to him, brows together. "I didn't believe him at first but here you are."

"So here I am." I said, glancing up at the balcony. I watched as Watson climbed in through a window, pistol out. "But, I highly doubt I'm going to just let you run off. Especially after what you have done to my friend here." I blinked as I said that. Friend? Did I really consider her a friend?

"Well then I'll kill her. Slowly." My jaw clenched, hands turning into fists. "I've already had my fun with her, so not a big loss." As he said this I almost went berserk, but John was the first to react.

"Put your hands up!" He shouted, only to have the brute turn around. With that, I ran forward, ducking his blind jab and punching him in the kidney, knowing he was a drinker. He bellowed and I punched him in the nose, making him fall to the ground, groaning. I kicked him in the stomach over and over again, until someone shouted at me.

"Sherlock!" John said, now next to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. I stopped, looking to him. "It's over…" he murmured as I breathed heavily. I then exhaled, nodding. I took my foot of the man, going over to Lara, bending down. John began to check her pulse, hands shaking as he checked her out. "She needs a hospital immediately." He said, making me nod and scoop her up gently. He put her arms in her lap as her head rested on my shoulder.

"Go out and tell Lestrade to cuff him up and to get the ambulance ready." He nodded and ran off, me walking to the door.

"S-Sherlock?" A horse whisper said. I looked down to see her opening her eyes slowly, them bloodshot.

"It's fine now. We're taking you to the hospital." She blinked absently, not looking up at me.

"Where is-""I got him. Lestrade is coming in to bring him to prison." she nodded once, slowly looking up at me.

"I'm sorry…" With that, she past out, my brows coming together.

*Normal POV*

I woke up to a beeping sound, pain enveloping my body. I groaned, opening my eyes to see I was in a hospital. "Lara!" I looked over to see John standing from the chair he sat in, smiling.

"You look like shit." I said, only to have be further surprised when I heard a deep chuckle. I looked over to see Sherlock typing away on his phone.

"How do you feel?" John asked as I began to sit up, back against the headboard. I sniffed, looking to him.

"Like shit." we both smiled at that.

"Good, 'cause you look like it." I nodded my head some.

"Can't I get some like, I dunno pain shit? I _am_ in a hospital." I said, only to both of them stare at me. "What? I'm in pain!" I said, John still glaring at me, but Holmes laughed.

"Your on a _controlled_ morphine drip." He said, typing still. I groaned, looking to my brother.

"Come on! You could-"

"No."

"Not even just-"

"No." I sat back, crossing my arms.

"This blows." I muttered, then glanced to Sherlock. "We coulda shared." I slipped, him freezing and looking up slightly, he then shook his head, rolling his sleeve up as he looked to me.

"I'm clean." He said, showing me his smoking patch. "Completely." He added, me only groaning more and hitting my head on the wall.

"Dull." I murmured, only to have him laugh.

"My thoughts precisely."


	13. To Brude

"I refuse."

"You can't refuse! It's yours!"

"And yet, here I am. Refusing. Funny how that works, huh?" We stood inches apart, glaring at each other.

"Ugh! Your impossible!" I shouted, shoving him. Being as one of my arm was in a sling, and the other pretty torn up, scabs running down it, he didn't go very far. In fact, he didn't even move. "Why are you trying to be nice? It's weird! Just take the goddamn bed and I have the sofa like normal!" His icy blue eyes narrowed to slits as I said this.

"I am _not_ being nice." He nearly growled, me glaring outside but internally I was wondering what got his knickers in a knot. He almost looked unsure as he said it, but recovered. "I am simply being logical. I don't sleep that much, and you were just held captive and tortured for three days. Your body needs the rest and the couch will simply not do." He said in his deep voice, standing up straight and pulling down on his suite jacket, not looking at me. I glared at him, before, raising an eyebrow, standing up straight. Fine. If he was going to be an arrogant bastard, I'll be one too. I walked over to the couch, and icy chill went down my spine telling me he was watching. With gently movements, I laid down on the couch, a mug smirk on my face. I was facing where the windows were, legs crossed. I took the stupid sling off, throwing to the side, leaning my head back down on the arm rest and closing my eyes. It wasn't until I felt something next to me that I opened my eyes, glaring at Holmes.

"What in the _hell_ are you doing?" I hissed. He faced the door and the kitchen, eyes closed and hands entwined on his chest.

"I'm making my point." He said, opening his eyes to look at me. My jaw clenched and I heaved a sigh, my head resting back on the arm rest once more.

"Well, I'm not moving." I huffed, crossing my arms gingerly, like a four year old.

"Nor am I." He commented.

"Fine."

"Fine." He finished, making me want to scream. This man was truly, and utterly impossible.

*John's POV*

I shivered as I walked into the flat, taking my jacket off. This week has been far too tiring, what with Lara being captured, her in the hospital and me now working a late shift. It was two in the morning, and I was utterly expurgated. I walked up the steps as quietly as I could, hoping not to wake anyone. As I entered the living area, I froze. Sherlock laid on the couch, as per normal before Lara got here, but that wasn't what got me. He sat facing me, one legs hanging off the couch, the other propped by Lara's head. I walked over, standing by the couch, brows together. Lara sat facing away from the door, one arm on his stomach the other lying next to her. Sherlock's arms were positioned the exact same way. My brows came even closer together as I saw the back of there hands touching, fingers slightly laced with one another's backwards. I would have said something to break this up, but I really couldn't bring myself to do it. I had a slight inkling something like this would happen, but actually seeing it progress was… Odd. It wasn't the fact that I knew it would happen that stopped me, it was their faces that did. Lara actually looked content, almost peaceful. As I looked to Sherlock, I shook my head, turning and going out, walking up the stairs. When Sherlock slept, his brows were always together. He always looked troubled, or angry. Never calm or relaxed. When Lara was gone, and when he finally went to sleep, He looked distressed. Always turning, jaw clenched and brows together. With Lara right there next to him, his face was calm, at peace. Maybe, as much as I would hate it, that they would be good for each other. My sister and Sherlock Holmes… Boy, what a week.

*Sherlock's POV*

I walked into the living room, raising a brow as I saw Lara staring out the window. It has been four days since her return, and she hasn't been the same. She barley spoke, and when she did it was with anger. She refused to use the sling anymore, so her arm hung limply at her side, wrapped up. The other was still healing, scabs starting to turn into scars. It was clear as day to me that she dwelled on what happened to her, which I didn't blame her. The doctor had said she was raped, brutally. I would imagine someone of her strength must feel weak. Since we stilled played chicken on the couch, neither of us letting the other take the bed, I awake sometimes to her mummers. Nightmares no doubt. It troubled me for some reason, same as waking up every morning with our hands touching. I shook my head of the thoughts, walking up and standing next to her, glancing down to her face. It was set in stone, brows together, lips in a thin line. I looked down to see her hands into fists, muscles tense.

"You would think someone with my level of knowledge of fighting, that I would be able to kill him." She said, jaw clenched. I stayed silent, unsure of what to say. Emotions and women, not really my area… "But he was too big, too strong." She glanced at me, and I could see her eyes glisten with held back tears. I never really thought much of it, but now I am. She must be someone who thinks crying is for the weak. "I couldn't handle it." She looked up then, blinking rapidly. "I was weak." Wit that she looked down, lips raised as she snarled. "I was useless!" With that, I watched as she raised her fist going to punch the wall. I stopped her, body now turned to her as I glared down.

"Everybody loses at some point." she looked up at me slowly and I let her arm go, putting my hands in my pockets. After a moment of us looking at each other, I smirked. "I'm hungry."


	14. Emotional breakdown

"Why are we going out into the cold to eat? There is actually food at the flat." I muttered, digging my hands into my pockets. This long jacket was a good idea.

"Because I'm tired of you burding about. It's annoying." He said nonchalantly, making me glare up at him.

"I don't brude. I simply wallow in self-pity." I corrected, only to have him give me a blank look. "Besides, going out for lunch won't change that." He smiled at that.

"Ah, but you've never had lunch with me." I rolled my eyes at his comment.

"What dose it matter to you? You have no idea how emotions are." He scuffed at that, shaking his head.

"I know emotions better then most people. I can make anybody feel anything."

"Prove it." I contoured, only to have him sigh.

"Fine… Ah!" he said, walking over to a woman looking at some jewelry through a window. I followed behind, intrigued. "E-excuse me?" He stuttered, voice shaky and a little high. The woman turned around and gasped some. I walked to where I could see his face, but still behind him. He was blinking rapidly, looking around as his chest heaved. "Umm, you see, I-I've lost my mothers kitten. She just passed away and it's the only thing I have to remember her by." He said, sniffing and sounding a bit hysteric.

"Oh, your poor thing!" I stared at the woman wide-eyed. No way is she falling for this! "Well, what does he look like?" She cooed, only to have Holmes sniff again, a little whimper escaping his lips.

"W-well. He's tiny, only a couple of months old. All black with a white spot on his nose." He swallowed, one tear escaping his eye…

"Ok, ok, relax. I'll help you find him." He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling sadly. "Now, what's the poor things name?"

"He name?" He asked, almost going out of character. I smiled at this. My turn.

"Princess fluffy cakes." I chimed, only to have him whirl on his heel, glaring. I smiled, and he turned around, fake voice back.

"Princess fluffy cakes… Mom wasn't the best at names." He said, taking a shuddering breath.

"Ok, well, if I find him where do you live?" She asked.

"221B Baker street. Thank you mum!" He said and walked away, me next to him. He looked down at me with a smug smirk, making me roll my eyes once more. After a moment, I began to giggle, holding it back as best as I could. "What?" he questioned, only to have me smile up at him.

"I got you to say princess fluffy cakes in one sentence." He smiled too, holding back his own laugh.

"Yes, well, you can count I'll never say it again. It kind of burned a little." He muttered, only to have both of us laugh, him nudging into my side. "See? Lunch with me made you smile."

"Sherlock. We haven't had lunch yet." He sniffed, looking away.

"Details, details."

* * *

"_Not_ his date." I muttered as the large man walked away.

"Let him have his fun." Holmes said, looking at a menu.

"Easy for you to say. You're not 'dating' a world class sociopath with some serious mental problems." I said with a sigh, looking over the menu.

"Hm. Sounds like quite a person." he murmured, me smirking.

"Oh, he is." I said, both of us glancing at each other with smirks. The rest of the time was spent eating and me listing to him tell me about every person in the restaurant, including the ones that walk in. When we got back to the flat, I was finally able to cohered him to sleep in his own room. I sat on the chair, watching TV when John came in. It was now seven in the evening, and I actually did feel better. Holmes made me forget for awhile what happened. Not that I would ever tell him that.

"Hm? Where's Sherlock?" John asked, going into the kitchen.

"In his room I'm guessing." I said, not really listening. Doctor Who was on.

"So, how was your day?" He asked, as he always did since I've gotten back.

"Good." I muttered, eyes going wide as the car stopped on the show.

"Good?" he said, surprised. I sighed, wanting him to shut up.

"Yes. Good. Can I watch my show now?" I snapped, rolling my eyes.

"What did you do that made it good?" He asked, sitting on the chair next to mine.

"Went to lunch with Sherlock. 'Bout it. Oh, cool!" I said, as the doctor began to knock on the wall and something knocked back.

"What do you mean you went to lunch with Sherlock?" I didn't answer until the commercial came on, in which I turned and punched John in the arm.

"Ah, sibling rivalry and all it's glory." Sherlock said, sweeping into the room and going into the kitchen as John rubbed his arm. "Good! You made tea John." He said, pouring a glass and sweeping back out and going up the stairs.

"How did you get him to go back to his room?" John asked, whilst I shrugged.

"Easy. Said if he didn't go sleep in his room, I would go in there and move everything." He blinked as I smiled. "I'm sure you know by now you touch anything of his and he flips."

"Yeah… Made that mistake only once." He said, and I nodded.


	15. Worst Idea Ever

**Disclamer and all that jazz. I took this idea from an Ellery Queen book called 'The Siamese Twin Mystery'. I just made it Sherlock and added my own touch to it. Thought it be kinda nifty.**

**

* * *

**

John and I both winced as we heard a groan.

"Crap…" I muttered, glancing at John who was driving a rental car.

"Oh no!" He whispered, glaring at the road. "This was your idea! You do it!" I scrunched my nose up, only to soon hear some movement.

"Fine… Dick weed." I muttered so he couldn't hear, then turned to look at the back seat. Sherlock half laid on the back seat, his arm over his eyes as he groaned. I watched as he sat up, arms now on his knees as he blinked slowly, looking around. "G'morning sunshine." I said smiling, only to have his dull, blue eyes look at me. I smirked at this. "You slept right through-"

"My mind is a bit fuzzy right now." He said, cutting me off as his dull eyes became sharp, eyes narrowed at me. "Indian region I presume, judging by those horrendous mountains." He closed his eyes for a minute before shaking his head and looking back to me. "Whatever you drugged me with, I cannot detect what it is. Do indulge me in your tale of what happened and why we are here." He said, sitting back and crossing his arms. I glanced to my dear brother, who only smirked.

"Well, to start off, I drugged you with Flunitrazepam-"

"The date rape drug?" John sputtered, almost going off the road. Both Sherlock and I sighed.

"No idiot. That's a huge misconception." I said.

"For once, as much as it pains me, I agree with the lady." I shot a dark glare over to Sherlock, who merely smirked. "There is only 1 percent that have been found with Flunitrazepam in the blood and urine tests. The most used drug is gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, or for lesser people," He glanced at John, me smiling. "GHB." He put hid head back then, and I sighed.

"Well, John and I agreed we need a vacation-"

"Ugh, dull." He muttered.

"And we also decided we can't leave you alone." He picked his head up, an icy glare directed at me.

"I'm not a child."

"Really? What happened last time when John and I left to go to the store?" There was a moment of silence as he looked away.

"Point made." He said with a sniff, then sighed. "When will we be there?"

* * *

I glared at the road, eye twitching a bit. I was driving now, John sleeping in the back and Sherlock in the passenger seat. Now, that normally doesn't bother me, but Sherlock sat, back against the door with his legs criss-cross on the seat, Elbow on his knee as his head was perched on his fist. He has been staring at me like this for the past hour. As I opened his mouth, he spoke.

"I'm bored, so I'm trying to figure out your full name." He said in a monotone voice. I blinked, glancing over to him. "Eyes on the road." I growled a bit, eye twitching once more as my knuckles turned white on the wheel.

"My full name is Lara." I said, but he said nothing and continued to stare at me.

"No. It isn't. Lara is not a common name." As I went to retort, he held up his free hand, eyes narrowing as his eyes became calculating. "Your parents named your brother Jonathan and your sister Harriet. Yes, a not to common name now but back when they were kids it was. So, I can only presume yours isn't Lara. Short for something. Hmm.." He kept those cold eyes on me, yet it singed my skin, leaving me flustered. I must say, when his full attention was on you, it was blustering. A bit scary too. "Loring?"

"No."

"Lisa?"

"No." He sighed, popping his check to the side. "It isn't a common name, trust me."

"Ah-ha! So Lara isn't your real name!" I face palmed my forehead, groaning. This man was infuriating. So, time went on, slowly at that. At about 11 at night, we were on a dirt road. I was driving, John up front and Sherlock, well. He was in the back. He sat upside down, kegs over the top of the seat, hanging down with his head on the ground, sleeping.

"Oh, dude, I love this song." I said as The Who came on, the song 'Behind Blue eyes'. As the song played, I smirked. "I bet you this is what Sherlock thinks internally." I smirked as John laughed a bit.

"I doubt it. The man doesn't feel." I scuffed.

"He's not a robot."

"You don't know that." I blinked some, brows together.

"Nah… Nah, I think this is how he feels on the inside. Deep, deep… Deep down."

"It intrigues me what you guys talk about when you think I'm asleep." I jumped at the sudden deep voice, John just sighing. I glanced back to see him still in the same position, eyes still closed.

"Er, so-"

"Do you guys feel that?" He suddenly said, cutting me off.

"Feel what?" John asked, brows together. I heard Sherlock move fast, him now leaning in-between us, eyes narrowed.

"Something isn't right." He murmured, eyes scanning the dark road. "Where are we?" He looked to me then. "Specifically, where?"

"Uhh, Tepees in the Indian Country." His eyes narrowed once more as he looked back to the road.

"Sherlock, what's-"

"Pull over." He cut John off.

"What? No way!" I sputtered, shaking my head at the mad man. "That drug must have really fucked with your head. There's nothing wrong!" I said, turning on a sharp shoulder, only to be curtly surprised. I braked the car, skidding and drifting, stopping right before a huge wall of fire. My eyes went wide, my side of the car facing the beast.

"Dear god." John said.

"I'm presuming the city of Tepees in on the other side of this road? Hm, yes don't answer that." He looked all around, finally looking back to me. "Double back, but don't go on the shoulder. Continue straight for 60 meters and there shall be a road we can turn onto. That should get us up and down the mountain and to the city. From there we shall alert the townspeople of this predicament." He said, on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees as his hands together. His eyes were excited, mouth to his fingers. I glanced to the fire before skidding and going down the road Sherlock told me to go. Something told me this was going to be the worst vacation ever."


	16. Fingers Crossed

"Well that was odd." I muttered as I got back in the car. Once I reached the road to turn up to the mountain, a large man in a small car was coming down. Once we told him there was a fire he went ape and told us to sod off, driving past us.

"Most things are." Sherlock said, deep in thought as we began our drive up the mountain. It was narrow, lots of turning and seemed almost endless. I knew I had to drive, John's leg couldn't handle it and Sherlock… Well, he is an arrogant prick who refused to help. It wasn't until two in the morning when the worst happened.

"Oh no…" I groaned, stopped the car. The sudden halting of movement woke John from the back seat.

"Have we made-" He stopped as the three of us stared in front of us. The end of the road…

"Most engaging." Holmes muttered, smiling as he got out of the car and walked up to the large, rusty gate. Once he fully examined the area, he spun on his heels, smirking as he looked to me.

"John."

"Hm?"

"Remind me to kill you for ever bringing me into this damned mans life." With that, I got out of the car and walked over to him, glaring. "I thought you said this would lead to the town." I said, only to have him shrug.

"Once we met our burly man at the road, I knew it didn't." I stared at him and he smiled that damned sarcastic smile of his. "Why would one willing go on this road if they came from the town, not knowing there was a fire?" I continued to glare and he sighed. "There's a house up here, where we can get food, water and rest. By morning the fire should be out and we can be on our merry dull way. Now! Help me with this." He said, turning and going to the lock. "Hand me your knife." He said, holding his hand out.

"How-"

"Don't." He cut me off, sounding bored. With both of our efforts we were able to pick the lock and open the gate, now parked in front of a large house.

"Good lord." John said, all of us getting out of the car. "This place is- _Sherlock!_" John said, cutting off his sentence.

"Hm?" Was the only reply we got, as he began to look all around as he walked up the door. "Interesting." He murmured, before sweeping up the steps and knocking on the door. I sighed and took my jacket off as John and I walked up the steps behind the mad-man. As he knocked once more, I wondered why it was so hot up here, being it was December. "The fire." Sherlock said with a annoyed sigh, knocking on the door once more.

"What?" John asked, confused. More knocking presumed.

"She was wondering why it up hot up here." He muttered, fully annoyed at this point as he began to rapture loudly and un-stopping at the door. "The fire and smoke makes the atmosphere of the mountain like that of summer. And being we are so high up, it shall only get hotter." He said, before giving out a grunt of annoyance.

"Sherlock! They must be asleep, if there is anyone even up here." John said, sighing. "Come on, let's just sleep in the car and make our way back do-" He was once again cut off was the door was pulled open. We all stood, side to side, looking at the odd man. He was tall, grey skinned and skinny. His head was bald, with only some grey fuzz on it, eyes black as coal and face sunken in. He wore dirty suspenders and a dirty white shirt, and as he snarled at his, we saw most of his teeth were missing. "Er… We seem to have the wrong house.. We'll jus-" John went to say but was cut off. It made me wonder how he feels about never getting a word in…

"Can't have a wrong house if this be the only damned house up here. What's yer business?" I snorted some as Sherlock smirked down at his friend.

"You see, we have come to a predicament down at the mountain." Sherlock said, looking back to the old man. "There seems to be a fire at the base of it, and I foolishly thought there was a road to go around it on the mountain." John and I snapped our heads to him, brows together. _Foolishly? _The Sherlock we knew only said that word to other people. Not himself.

"Fire?" The old man said, surprised.

"Yes. We were wondering if we could stay the night? To recover before we set off once more." The old man took it into thought before slamming the large door in our faces.

"Well. That went well." John said after a moment of silence.

"I agree with my brother on this. Let's get outta here." I said, then looked around. "I have a bad feeling." With that, Sherlock looked at me above Johns head.

"About what?" He queried, eyes stone as he stared at me.

"Uhh.." I stopped, looking away from him, but his gaze still held my body paralyzed. "I dunno… It's just that-" I was cut off as the door opened again to reveal a much nicer looking gentleman.

"Hello there. Sorry about Bones before. We tend to be cautious of night visitors. Now, what's this about a fire? Come in! Come in!" He said, letting us in. My paranoia grew as we walked silently behind the man.

"What do you see?" Sherlock whispered next to me, as John was in front of us and the man named Xavier in front of him.

"See about what?" I whispered back, glancing around the dark hallway.

"Xavier." He muttered, glancing down at me. I don't know why he is asking. Honestly. I'm no Sherlock.

"He's a Doctor." I said shrugging, making him smile.

"Good." With that we stayed in silence until we reached what seemed to be a living room. Xavier, John and Sherlock sat down in their own chairs, all facing each other. I stood by the glass door that led to a deck, over looking the landscape.

"So, what's all this about a fire?" Xavier asked. They chit-chatted about the fire and why we were here. A maid came in, acting a bit odd. She set down some sandwiches and left, only to be replaced by some more people. "Yes! Everyone, this is Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and uh…" He stopped and I looked over my shoulder at the new people.

"Lara Watson." I muttered, nodding my head and looking back out the window. He introduced his wife, Sara Xavier, her friend Ann Forest, doctor Sherlock Holmes, which caused a good bit of laughs.

"Ohh, so you and John are married eh? How long?" Mark asked, making Sherlock, John and I freeze.

"Uh, you see-"

"16 years." I said, turning on my heel with, well, a Sherlock smile. The one he uses for 'normal people' as he says.

"Wow… You guys look young!" Ann said, and I nodded, going over and sitting on the arm rest of Johns chair, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"Yes, well, love keeps us young." I winked and kissed his cheek, him just sitting up straight, staring at the wall past Sherlock's head. Sherlock merely smirked, shacking his head. To make a long story short, we all talked about the fire and other meaningless stuff. They were acting… Strange. After an hour, I looked over to Sherlock. He was acting half normal for once, but was still him in the sense that he said stuff blatantly. I hadn't noticed I was staring until he looked over to me, an eyebrow raised. Somehow, just through that single look, I understood he knew something was off too.

"Well, needless to say, we've had quite the day." I said, kissing the top of John's head and standing.

"Of course! Come, I'll take you to your rooms!" Xavier said, standing. As we bid goodnight to the others, Xavier showed me and John to our room, and Sherlock next to ours.

"This isn't going to end well you know." John said as he took his jacket off and sat on the bed.

"Oh come on! You know it was funny." I said, taking my own jacket off and looking out door that lead to the deck.

"Fine. I'm going to bed. Just don't do anything…" He paused for a minute and I turned to look at him. "Just don't do anything." With that he turned the light off and went to sleep. I narrowed my eyes and turned to the door.

"Whops. Had my fingers crossed."


	17. Anger and Murder

*Sherlock's POV*

After pacing my room for three hours, boredom kicked in. I wasn't in the best of moods to begin with once I found out I was forced to take this damned 'vacation' as they called it. Ugh, so dull. I was at least expecting Lara to be better then this, but once again she proved how normal she really is. They didn't even bring my violin to play! How do they expect me to not blow something up when there is nothing to do in this far to dull house. Sure there was something odd going on about the house, but every room held someone in it. I knew I couldn't just go about checking around on what they were hiding. To obvious. I had to wait until they were all up and about, which left me bored. Well, that is until I heard a door open and close. My eyes narrowed as the sound came from next to my room, which held John and Lara. John would be asleep, being as dull as he is, but Lara…

I walked to the door and opened it, peering out to see a shadowed figure go down the steps. I smirked, following the figure with silence. Well, not following, being as how they disappeared once down the steps. So, I guess not with ease seeing as how I wondered around the living area and the kitchen before I heard an odd noise. It was a stringed instrument, that I knew for sure. As I followed the sound, I found the tune to be a bit forbidding and sad. The strings were light, but there were a lot of them, so that rules out any small instrument. As I entered a new room, I saw Lara sitting in a chair playing a harp. I put my hands in my pockets as I watched her play with ease, a tune of what I would assume to be of sorrow. It made me wonder how she even learned to play such a intricate instrument. As I watched her play, I couldn't help but feel... Connected with her. She amused me to sorts, and even now, with such a boring act of playing a harp, I still found myself intrigued. I couldn't make sense of it, and if all was honest, I didn't want to.

*Normal POV*

I sighed as I stopped playing, only to jump in surprise.

"Quite the talent." I nearly knocked over the harp, but I caught it, sighing as I glared over to where Sherlock stood, hands in his pockets and smiling.

"What are you dong here? Stalking me?" I muttered, putting the large harp back up.

"I simply heard a noise and wanted to see what it was." He simplified as he looked around. "Which brings me to my next question. When did you learn how to play the harp?" He asked as he began to walk around. If he were looking, he would have seen the crestfallen look that I hid as he turned to look at me when I didn't answer.

"My friend taught me on one of our missions." I said as normally as I could around the lump forming in my throat.

"Interesting." he mumbled, walking over to the window and pulling back the curtain a bit.

"What could I have possibly have said that made you think of something?" I said wit ha roll of my eyes. I began to pluck tunelessly at the harp.

He smirked that very annoying smirk of his as he turned on his heel to stare at me. "Not once in your explanations of people have you called any of them friends." He stood with his hands in his pockets, calculating blue eyes boring into mine. I clenched my jaw and set the harp upright as I stood, walking out. "So, it's personal then." He said as he followed me. "Being as how he was on your team I'm assuming he di-"

"Don't!" I growled with as much venom as I felt burning through my veins, stopping as I glared down at the floor.

"Good, getting somewhere. Now, being as how-" His sentence died in his throat when my hand met his his cheek with a sickening crack. His head stayed turned to the side, face unreadable. As I stood up straight again, he slowly lifted his head up, staring down at me with absolutely no emotion. It would have unnerved me if I weren't so unbelievably pissed at him.

"_Her_ name was Erika Mills." I said, correcting him from earlier. Then I looked down, brows together. "And I killed her..."

* * *

We woke in the morning, all meeting in the kitchen. Whilst John and I were on our way, Holmes caught up with us. Needles to say it was awkward for me. If it was for him he didn't show it.

"I'm telling the truth! I-"

"Ugh, not this again." I groaned. On his way to the bathroom this morning John swore he saw something that looked like a lobster. "They _are_ hiding something, but I doubt it's a giant crustacean." I whispered as we entered the kitchen.

"I must agree with her." Sherlock said as we all sat down at the table in the dining room. "I called the town before you all woke. The fire is still raging so we are stuck here." I slammed my forehead on the table, not wanting to be here. I just had a rotten feeling that just kept getting worse and worse. With that thought, we all heard a scream. We looked to the door as the maid came in, tears streaming down her red face. We all stood as she tried to say something.

"I-It's Xavier! H-h-he's dead!" My face fell. Great. Even when we try to go on vacation we find a murder.


	18. Closing in

I awoke to two voices above me. I kept my eyes closed, head throbbing, and tried to listen in.

"I thought it was Mark!" A frantic and worried voice whispered harshly, a voice I knew very well. That means the other had to be…

"Well, obviously we were wrong… Again." Sherlock almost growled. Ever since the murder of Xavier, this adventure turned out to bring only fear, anger and pain. At first we identified Mrs. Xavier to be the killer, the card in the Doctors hand giving us our clue. She admitted to it but then a strange twist occurred. Just to make a long story short, we had recently targeted Mark as the killer, and as he ran John shot at him and hit him close to his spine. We all decided to take turns guarding him, seeing as how when he came too when we brought him back in, he told us he didn't kill Xavier, but he did try to frame his wife. And right before he passed out, he told us he knew the killer. And to top all of this off, the fire has become a tyrant, and is honing in on us slowly, and we had nowhere to run. We are lobsters in a tank, waiting to be fried. Let's not forget we are almost out of food and we also have extra guests. The 'lobster' my brother say was actually Siamese twins, seeing how Sherlock decided to explore.

"God, is she going to be ok?" John asked, and I opened my eyes, wincing against the bright light. Oh yeah, I got the first night shift to watch mark, but when I heard a noise in the hallway and went to check it out, got knock on the top of my head and was knocked out.

"Yeah. Gonna be just fantastic." I muttered as I sat up, holding my hand to my head. I shook my head some and looked over to Sherlock, who was crouched to my left, as John was kneeled to my right. "So, who did this?" I asked and his pointed blue eyes looked elsewhere.

"I don't know." He then turned a sharp gaze to me, making my heart jump. We haven't really…. Gotten on ever since I slapped him. It's not like I don't understand his reasoning's for not wanting to be around me, but I sure as hell wasn't sorry for anything. He crossed a line. One of the very few lines I've drawn. "Yet." He said, but the way he said it was different. The way he stared at me and the way his voice changed, it almost sounded like he was doing it for me.

"How?" John cut in, the surplus tension dissipating between Holmes and I.

"The only way I know how." He muttered, then gracefully swooped out of the room, a bird on the hunt.

John and I sighed, him leaning against the wall and me against the bed. The heat was unbearable, and as I gazed up at the window I could see smoke filtering in the wind, telling me the fire was even closer. "We're gonna die here, aren't we?" I asked John, just gazing up at the window.

I heard him sigh, and there was a pregnant pause before he finally answered. "We'll get through this. We always do." He said, and I looking down, pulling my knees up and wrapping my arms around them. I felt numb. Knowing that your death is only hours away? It's the most depressing thing anyone can experience. And to add it on the glares and odd looks that Sherlock gives me as he walks as far away from me as possible. We've maybe that 3 sentences to each other, if that. I use to be able to talk with him, banter. It was like our routine. I would say something, he'd tried to correct me and then we'd argue which would end with was somehow inches away from each other, staring deeply into each others eyes. It was unnerving and absolutely addicting. With all of this happening, the murders and the fire, I was hoping I could at least keep that tie with someone I knew I could trust my life too.

"You're a terrible lair." I whispered, head down on my knees. He was soon sitting down next to me, wrapping his arms around me. I uncurled my body and wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling my head into his chest.

"Yeah, but I _can_ make a mean cup of tea." He said, and I smiled, sniffing some as I held back tears. I didn't want to die. I still haven't fulfilled my purpose, whatever it may be. Plus all of these people will be burned to death! If there was a way I could at least save them I'd take the heat all by myself. My brother! I couldn't let him die. And Sherlock… The world needed him. Yeah, that's why I wanted him safe.

"I guess that makes up for something." I muttered and he raised his arms, grunting.

"Wha-? We're English!" I laughed and sat up as he said this. "That counts for _everything_. Besides, I can _also_ make a mean patch of toast." He said confidently, crossing his arms and I laughed again, grabbing a pillow and hitting him with it.

"You're such a dumb ass! Jeez."

*Sherlock's POV*

I leaned against the wall, looking down, brows together as I listened to my two friends. For the second time on this trip, Lara showed emotion. Sure, not directly to me but for the fact that she broke down in front of anyone is amazing. She was so wrapped up and repressed that it was like nothing was ever there. The black op. forces she trained with destroyed her.

But here, with her brother, she first showed fear. She didn't want to die, which is obvious and understandable to a point. Then Watson held her. A very emotional gesture that I'm not found of at all, but it helped her… I felt… Envious in a way I couldn't explain nor understand. Now they were laughing, talking about their childhood. A tender moment between siblings, and friends. I've never understood what the purpose of them.

With a sigh I began to wonder the house, in thought as so I could get my mind off of Lara. So, someone snuck in, knocked Lara out and killed Mark before he could tell us who the murderer is. The safe where we put the deck of cards in was almost broken into. The Siamese twins were ruled out, along with Ms. Francis. The brute who we first met on the road, who seemed to have a financial connection to Ms. Francis. I found that out long after he came back, being as how the fire locked him on this mountain with the rest of us. After we went on a search earlier today, I came back earlier and when resting in the woods I saw both of them talking, then Ms. Francis took a envelope from William's hand, and ripped it up. Once making sure they were both gone I grabbed the pieces and put them back together to see it was a check for 1000 pounds. But even with that, we found out that he was a surgeon at her son's birth, and was blackmailing her ever since as so he wouldn't tell any reporters being as how she is going to marry the princes of Dutch. They both had air tight alibis. Boring.

Mrs. Xavier was already ruled out. So, that leaves us, of course, Doctor Holmes. But it was weak. There just wasn't enough motive or evidence that even closely lead to him. It might be that he's just good, but something told me he wasn't smart enough to be good enough to fool me. So, that leaves us with no one, unless John and Lara are being naughty. Which is even less likely then even I doing all of this.

I finally sighed and sat down in the music room, putting my head in my hand as I tried to think of something new to help the case. As I opened my eyes I raised a brow, reaching down and picking up the violin I saw. I looked on the other side of the chair and smiled as I picked up the bow. This couldn't be anymore perfect and perfectly timed. I needed to think and seeing how I couldn't get anything to make my confection, this will do perfectly.

*Normal POV*

As I came down the stairs I stopped, listening to a familiar tune. As I walked through the kitchen and living area, I knew since it was three in the morning and that sound is most definitely a violin, it could only be the great Sherlock Holmes. Once to the music room I stopped at the doorway, smiling a bit and leaning on the doorframe, crossing my arms. Sherlock sat facing me, eyes closed as he played a tune I knew all too well. It was both sad and enchanting. Something that shook your core and sent your mind reeling in devastating ways.

His body was still, a body and face sculpted out of stone like a Greek God. His rhythm is flawless as his arm moves with ease across the strings. I would never admit it to anyone, but he is so perfect in this moment. Everything about him I wanted.

Wait, no. Sorry, kidding. I'm lying. God, I hope I'm lying. I better be lying.

"My mom use to hum that to me whenever my dad got drunk." I said, and the music instantly stopped. He opened his eyes to stare at me, almost surprised. I smiled a bit and walked around, sitting in the chair facing him. We stayed in silence for awhile before I finally spoke up. "My father wasn't in the military." He looked at me then, brows together. "You were wrong about some things about me and Johns childhood." I explained. He leaned back, the violin and bow on the ground, his fingers crossed and elbows on the arms of the seat.

"My father was in the military, but was dishonorably discharged two years after I was born. He began to drink, and started to became violent. On nights like that, my mom would come into our room, Harry already asleep but me. Oh, no. Me, I was always awake. Always listening. I was waiting for when he would snap and come into our room." I closed my eyes, remembering the fear. "She would hold me in her lap and hum that tune. " I opened my eyes to look at him, his icy stare boring into mine. "He was a truck driver, and he made my mom go with him on his runs, just to make sure she couldn't cheat on him or leave him. So yes, that left me to take care of my rehabbed, gay sister and my new little brother. After years of this, I found I had to help with the house payments or else we'd all starve and become homeless. I'm the one who found the agency and made a deal with them. Once I agreed to full term employment, they'd train me in _Everything_ as so I could take care of John."

I sighed and leaned back in the chair. Being as how we have maybe 2 more days to live, I wanted to tell him everything. Anything. I just… Wanted to be around him. To make things up. "My family came from squires, and it all ended up to my parents being millionaires." He said and I looked over to him, only to see him looking away purposefully. Is he actually telling me about _his_ past?

"I've never been normal. And with my parents so high in society and Mycroft being so into the government, I wasn't treated the best. My father never noticed my existence, thinking my experiments and deducing work were never good enough for him. My mother treated me with strict rules and harsh beatings if I didn't obey. They died in a car bombing two years after I moved out." I went to say sorry but he shot me a dark look, telling me that wasn't a smart idea. "I came to the funeral late, walking up the aisle, the priest stopping as he saw me so everything was quite. I walked right up to their coffins and just stood there, looking down in between the bodies, everything so silent the tension was sickening." He just looked down now, eyes narrowed as he remembered all of this. "I then turned to the audience, my parents followers. They stared at me confused, except for Mycroft. I may not like it but his power of deduction far out powers mine, but he's just too lazy to use it correctly. But not that day. The look he gave me told me he already knew what I was doing." He closed his eyes then. "I then told everyone who killed them. With only the name, I walked out, never going back to that town again."

I stared at him, seeing what he meant. "You still love them." I whispered and he opened his eyes slowly, still looking down.

"They turned me into the person I am today. I was grateful but we're even now." he said, and I sighed, shaking my head. He had to always seem so heartless, as if trying to prove a point. We stayed in silence for a long time, neither of us looking at the other, that was until he said one thing. "Why did you kill her?" He whispered, voice smooth and rich and far to satisfying to admit.

I sighed and bit my lip, leaning my head back and looking up at the ceiling. "We were on a mission in Ireland because they were sending assassins over to England again. Some Protestant leader had convinced people that the English needed to pay for our old crimes and began to send assassins like they use to. So, my team and I, which was a covert op. group of about five. To make a long story short, we killed off half the army and the leader, but on the way out Erika got shot by a shot gun, her arm and some of her side being mutilated. We hid behind a hill on the brink of the forest, a border they couldn't cross. We all were lying down, silent as a group of them scanned the boarder, trying to see if they had an excuse to cross it to kill us all. But, Erika was making too much noise and they were coming up on us. We all tried to keep her quite but nothing worked as her pain increased so did her whines and groans of pain." I swallowed some, closing my eyes as the images and video clips flashed through my head of that night. The alarm was going off and everything was flashing red in the dark. I could only spot some men in various areas scouting the building, whilst I could hear the others slowly coming our way.

"I didn't have a choice. It was either kill her, which we all knew she was already dieing, and save the rest of us or keep her alive and kill us all, retrieving information on where our base is and other valuable stuff." He stared at me, now understanding.

"You had to kill her…" I nodded to his accusation. He is right. And because I did kill her, the three other guys on that team are now happily married and living a normal lives in the U.S. That had to count for something…. But it doesn't feel it.

"She was my only friend in that hell hole. From start to finish we were always on the same team. We were the best at our jobs and everyone knew it. Once she died I went under the radar, only taking missions from high payers and the government." I bit my lip then, smiling a bit. "Your brother was the one who assigned me the mission to go to Ireland." We both looked at each other and laughed a bit. After a moment he stood and walked away, but I stopped him. "Your parents are still alive, aren't they?" I asked, turning around and looking at him with a smirk.

He smiled slowly, making me sigh. "Yup, and they've invited the four of us to come by for a day this upcoming March 2ed." He said and walked out. I sighed and thought about it, thinking we wouldn't make it considering it was in two weeks.

"We need to stop this fire…" I muttered, but looked back to the door slightly happier now that me and Holmes were back to normal.


	19. Of the Past and the Present

There was hope. After the intense scene that just occurred in the house as both Holmes and John accuse the Ms. Foster that they killed the people, we heard a rumble. We ran out hoping it was ran, but watched as a plane flew above us. It began to circle around and we all smiled in happiness. The last bit of hope we had died when the plane shot right above the house, Holmes saying it's impossible for him to land with the incline and the amount of trees and rough terrain.

"What's tha'?" William's asked as he held his large floppy arm out, and we watched as a couple of packages fell to the ground. Supplies?

I looked up at Holmes and he was staring ahead, a glare on his pale face telling me we really are going to die by the fire. This happened to me once before in Africa. There was a bombing which resulted in a huge forest fire. Me and my Squad were stuck in some hut, taking a look to see if there was anything we could use, the fire slowly inching it's way up to us. A helicopter dropped supplies for us three hours after we radioed in, them telling us we either die in gunfire or die in a normal fire. It was only by luck that I was able to use the three shots we had left for the sniper to take out two crusaders and the one guy with a grenade who took out the entire squad that was sent to kill us and the car with the machine gun on it exploded.

I doubt I could have such luck again. We both knew we were done for, and as John hopped over and grabbed an envelope that came with the supplies and began to read it out the others soon realized it as well. The head detective wrote us saying there isn't nothing he could do to get us off the mountain He gave us food and first aid supplies with some words of wisdom to help stop the fire, Futile efforts at this point.

Silence descended upon us as John dropped the letter. "They're leaving us here to die." Ms. Foster whispered and everyone suddenly realized she was right.

"It's not like it's their fault. They just can't risk anymore people dieing to try and save us. We are a lost cause and it is inevitable that we will die by this fire." Sherlock said and we all glared at him. He sucks at this shit.

"Come on! Why don't we at least try the mote idea? Dig a trench around the house to stop the fire." John said, trying to ease the tension. He's a good man. A good man that shouldn't die.

"John's right." Holmes said, turning towards everyone. "Bones, grab as many Shovels and digging materials as you can. William, go with him and help out." He ordered the two opposite males. They hated each other but knew for their survival they better do as Sherlock says. They ran out together, then Sherlock turned to the girls. "You have to dig with us. Everyone must dig if we even have a chance of digging a trench big enough to stop the fire." He said to everyone, and I knew he was right. Once the pair came back with shovels and pick axes and other stuff we began to work. We didn't say a word as we dug and dug and dug. Everyone worked hard and fast, their minds reeling as we felt the fire come closer as the heat began to blister. One by one people began to fall asleep or just give up. John and I were the last ones digging by the morning of the next day. After one full day and night, the trench was almost all the way around the house, it being deep and wide. On the second morning John is shirtless and wearing jeans as I am wearing a black wife beater and black jeans. Great, heat attracter.

"Look!" the twins said and we looked over to see clouds of black some coming closer and closer. We didn't have much time left… Maybe another two hours before it hit's the house.

"Everyone! Grab anything you can put water in and fill it up. Go to the cellar and wait for us before you close the door." Sherlock ordered and everyone began to bustle about. I was angry and sad and desperate. I just kept digging. Plunging the damned metal into the ground over and over and over again, hands already bleeding from the chafing of none stop days of shoveling. "Lara!" Holmes yelled, but I ignored him. "_**Lara!**__"_ He called again, voice deep and rich, but again I ignored his call. I didn't notice how everyone else was already inside, getting the last bit of water and food before going down the stairs to a cellar. As I kept digging, a hand stopped my shovel and I just kept my head down, stray hairs covering my face. I saw a pale white hand getting covered in my blood seeing how the hand was just under mine.

"I have to save them." I whispered. I looked up slowly at him and for the first time, I saw emotion in those icy orbs. We didn't speak, but we understood each other in that moment. As much as he tried to act heartless, we both knew he wanted to save them as much as I did, if not more so.

"You can't." He finally said and I looked down, letting the shovel drop and my noodle like arms by this point with all the arm hung loosely, skin peeling and raw skin showing, blood and dirt on my hands. Everything hurt, yet I was so incredibly numb…

I then fell to me knees as I stared at my hands, going a bit insane from the sever lack of sleep, exhaustion and all that fun we've been having the past couple of days. I started to have a panic attack, my mind reeling back to the day I had to kill Ericka. I could save her. I wanted to but nothing I could have done would have worked. "I never had a choice." I began to whisper over and over again as tears fell from my eyes. Flashes of the bloody Erika and then burned bodies which would no doubt be us within a few hours. The cellar wouldn't hold long considering it was only made of bricks and the house will basically be falling on us. "I have to save her." I began to whisper now.

"Save who?" I heard a deep voice asked but it was too far away. My mind was reeling as everything began to be surreal and I couldn't tell the difference between the past and present.

All of a sudden, everything changed and I was back all those years ago.

*Flashback*

_I sat in the back of the carrier plane, eyes closed as I leaned on my rifle. They told me this mission would be the set of my career. So, even though once they told me I was only allowed a group of four others and we had to basically kill an army. Our main goal is the Leader. Sharaman. They briefed me on this guy. He was raised in a slave chain down in west Africa. He was sold at the age of six, and moved from West Africa all the way to the Arabian trade. There he was educated in education and in the fine arts of Thai-boxing. They then put him in Ireland about ten years ago where he used his extensive knowledge on history and manipulation to get the Irish-protestant to continue the tirade they inflict on the English in the 1700's. Assassins were unleashed once again and after many tires of trying to negotiate with the dictator and the president of that area. After that didn't work, they finally got me in on it. _

"_Alright, enough of this shit." Yinsen said as he stood. He was the largest out of us all. I picked him for his insane speed and strength, plus the ability to come up with some useful stuff in dire needs. He walked up to the wall that separated the cargo area and the pilots. Luckily for us there were only a few boxes so we were basically in a empty room. We all watched as he leaned down in front of a small table that was bolted to the floor. He looked around and grabbed a radio, checking the batteries then turning it on, strolling back to the very back. _

_I looked around at my teammates. There was Yinsen and Erika, who's name I shouldn't know as she shouldn't know mine. Her codename is Viper for his lightning fast strikes with a knife and the quickest reaction time you'd ever see. Other then them, there was also sharpshooter. Best marksmen with __any__ kind of kind or projectile. If he throws it then it won't miss. Lastly I picked Psycho. He is named because of his insane manipulation skills, Lack of emotion to killing and his brutal form. Let me just say, when he kills someone you don't have to double check to make sure they are dead._

_Psycho was the most interesting out of all of them. Or really any guy I've met in this agency. He barley talks, about as open as a steal door on a bank safe after hours. His hair was shirt, black and looked like hasn't seen a brush in over a decade. I wouldn't tell a soul, say Erika who already knows, but he is extremely attractive. Epically today. Black eyes burning, hair spiked messily, armored cloth clinging to his strong body. _

'_Drop zone 42' the intercom said, and we all looked back to Yinsen who stood, grabbing his black pack and strapping it to his back as he walked over to the large door that I sat next to. He grabbed his pack on the ground with his named labeled on it for this mission. He grabbed the enhanced goggles and put them on, then grabbed a re-breather, putting it in his mouth, opening the door. We all smirked at him as he stared down at the rushing water below him. Wind rushed into the area and made me wish I wore headphones. _

"_You owe me." I heard him muffle around the breather, then he dove, me closing the door behind him. Not soon after everyone was dropped off at their own zones until it was just me and Psycho. I knew mine was the last drop, being a couple of clicks away from the temple in the woods that they use as a hideout. His was still another couple of miles away._

"_You're too young." He said, not looking my way but keeping his eyes in the same place as they have been this entire trip. This is the first time I've ever worked with him, and I was a little on the edge. It wasn't smart to work this kind of job with someone who doesn't know how you work. 'causes friction. _

"_What?" I asked as I raised my leg up on the bench, my arm on top of my knee._

"_You. You're too young." he said again, turning his head to lock me down with a steely gaze. "I've heard of you. Some sort of prodigy. Now that I've seen you up close I'm guessing you can only be 19." His voice was strong and a bit rough. As they called his landing area, he got up and grabbed his stuff, stopping in front of me. I looked up as he leaned down, eyes narrowed as his neck strained. "I've long since sold my soul. You must get out of this…" he looked away, face softening a bit. "You could do so much better." He murmured, then glanced at me. "I've noticed your stares. Just know if I were ever to be with anyone, it would be with you." With that he opened the door and shot out, me closing the door behind him. _

_I leaned back and smiled. "That girl owes me ten bucks."_

'_**DOWN! DOWN!'**__ Someone yelled into our ear buds and we all began to run for the exit Psycho up front running with a bloody and shot down Erika. Sharpshooter and Yinsen where at my flanks, all of us loading rounds of whatever gun we could reach for into a rushing crowd of the remaining army._

'_Once out of the temple bank right and we all hide in the brush in a long forgotten trench.' I said into the mic and they all gave a signal that they understood. Once under the brush we got ourselves covered. As we heard them branch off, I crawled over to Erika, who was breathing fast and deeply. Blood was everywhere on her, her arm being completely mutilated, face having some broken pieces of metal scorned into her skin, her side ripped and torn, flesh and muscles hanging from the holes in her clothes. _

"_Do I look that bad?" She choked out, blood seeping out of her mouth, nose and ears. _

"_Don't worry about it." I said, and then we all became silent, say for Erika's moans of pain. They kept getting louder and louder, and as I peered stealthily over the trench, I knew that if this continued we'd all be dead. "Viper, you need to keep quiet!" I whispered urgently to her to show her hw close they were. She went on her god side and curled into the ground, making her noises into the ground where they were nearly silenced. That is until she began to wrath and moved onto her back once more, crying out. I winced and glanced over to see them 20 years away and one of them looked our way. _

_I turned around fully and began to think quickly about what to do. I looked down as I felt a tug and saw Erika looking up at me with tear stricken eyes. "Code 441-11BB" She said and I closed my eyes. I wanted to scream and shout and tear my hair out, but I needed to be the leader. They gave me this mission to save hundreds of lives, which I did. I needed to be an adult about this. She is right though. When in a position like this, there was only one option if our cover could be blown. By __**anybody**__. _

_I grabbed my hand gun, suppresser already on, and put it to her head. For the first time since I began my training, I hesitated. As I heard the men coming closer and her cry's growing louder, I finally took a deep breath and put my finger on the trigger. I closed my eyes and looked away…_

*Present*

My eyes shot open, me in complete surprise. I was on my knees, but that wasn't what surprised me. It was the person that was holding me. Holmes had wrapped his long arms all the way around my small frame, the side of my head resting on his chest as his head was on top of mine. He basically just covered me, and for once in my life, I felt safe and at ease. "It's not your fault." He murmured, me feeling the vibration of his voice that rumbled from his chest, and I closed my eyes. I wanted to say something, but any kind of energy I had vanished from the two days of shoveling and that little episode I just had.

As I listened I heard the fire crackling not too far away, the heat already unbearable. So, with such little time left and both of us feeling vulnerable from all of this, I wrapped my arms around his back, hugging him tightly as tears escaped my closed eyes, head nuzzling slightly into his chest. And, with great effort, I was able to get: "Behind blue eyes" out in a horse voice before I blacked out in his arms.

*Sherlock's POV*

I sighed and picked her up bridal style, head cradled into my chest as so she doesn't break her neck. I thought about what she said, trying to make sense of it. What could 'behind blue eyes' possibly mean? Yes, I do have blue eyes, and I could go into what is behind them, but I doubt that's what she meant.

This woman was the epitome of a 'emotional roller coaster'. At first I was astounded her severity of allegiance to saving people. She was the only one that worked non-stop. No breaks for bathroom, drink or anything. Then her breakdown. It must have come on by a chemical process of her mind. Same kind of situation where she doesn't have a choice. Then as she was muttering things under her breath, she just fell to her knees and zoned eyes. Eyes wide and body trembling. As she started to mutter things I knew she was re-living something. Then as she sad the name 'Erika' I knew where she was.

I tried getting her out of it, even John tried. I told him to make sure the others are on lockdown in the cellar because we still have a killer loose. Once he was gone I just stared down at her, unsure of what to do. Then, I remembered what John did when she broke down two days ago.

I got on my knees and looked at her, unsure if this was a good idea or not. With a sigh I scooted closer and enveloped her in my arms. As I sat there awkwardly, I slowly realized that it wasn't so bad. As I relaxed into it and rested my chin on her head, her breathing suddenly went back to normal. We sat like that for five minutes before I finally spoke. "It's not your fault." I said, and very unsure as to why I said it. After a minute she wrapped her arms around me tightly and rubbed her head against my chest. That sent me spiraling. It was unexpected, but not completely unwanted. Then she said that stupid comment and passed out. Most likely a semi-coma to let her brain reboot and her body replenish what it lost.

"What did you do?" John panicked as I came up, him guarding the closed door to the cellar.

"I didn't do anything. She fainted all on her own." I said and we both went down the stairs, Bones already waiting. When we closed the door he stuffed the bottom with blankets and spare wood pieces as so we wouldn't die by the smoke. 'Course, it would either be the smoke, collapsing of the room because of the fire, or, the fire. I'm smart enough to know we didn't have a chance of living and this was only gonna give us an extra couple of hours.


	20. The End

I groaned some as I came too, sitting up and looking around. I was in the cellar, everyone grouped off and silent as can be. I listened and heard the roaring of the fire above us, things crashing down as the house burnt down. I looked next to me to see Sherlock looking down, sitting on a box.

"Where Mrs. Xavier?" I asked him quietly and he glanced over to me.

"She ran into the fire." He said in his deep voice. I stared at him as he told me how he solved the case. Mark did frame Mrs. Xavier, but little did he know he framed her for the crime she did commit. She was the one that put the half card in her husbands hand, trying to frame the twins' mother. Mark came in and saw he was dead, and decided to frame Mrs. Xavier so he could have the whole fortune. When we caught her she did confess, but then we saw the original frame up and she was off the hook, going off and killing off suspects. When Sherlock told his tale, she ran out into the fire, unable to handle the guilt anymore, because she killed him thinking he was having an affair with Ms. Foster, the twins' mother. This entire thing having been caused up by a huge misconception.

I looked over and saw John sitting against the wall, knee up and elbow on it, head in his hand as he slept. This was it then. Our last moments of living. "Thank you." I said, getting up and sitting next to him on the box, him making room for me.

"For what?" He asked, both of us looking out our hands that were back to back. I remember when we both slept on the couch at one point, I would wake in the night to see out hands clasped. Same thing every night without fail. Being as we were about to die I decided to just go ahead and intertwine our hands.

Instead of pulling back he grasped my hand and held onto it, making my heart jump. "For always saving me." He looked down at me but I didn't dare look up. I was afraid of my body, of what I'd do with him so incredibly close. Our lives almost to an end, I was afraid of what I would risk.

But he wasn't. He reached around with his left arm, and grabbed my chin gently. As he made me look up into his eyes, my body began to tingle from the pure adrenaline. He stared at me, eyes narrowed as he tried to see something in my eyes. He looked like he was about to say something, then he changed his mind. "Your welcome." He said and looked away, brows together. Time pasted endlessly. Minutes felt like hours but hours felt like minutes. We were in our own personal purgatory, awaiting our final trip to hell. At one point I remember falling asleep on Holmes's shoulder, waking up to find his head on mine, him asleep.

After what felt like an eternity, we all perked up at a strange sound. After a minute we heard it again and I stood, brows together. "That sounded like…" John muttered, slowly standing from the floor, holding onto his leg.

"Thunder." I finished. Bones bolted up the stairs, and we heard him open the door. Seconds ticked by as our hearts pumped erratically.

Then, we heard something that saved our lives. "It's raining!"

* * *

I leaned back in the chair, the airplane turbulence rocking me to sleep. I sat by the window, John next to me and Sherlock on the end. John had three stitches on his cheek, but otherwise was fine. Sherlock didn't have any injuries besides minor scratches. My arm was in a sling and I was a bandage under my eye, but was fine all in all. Once the fire died away they sent a chopper for us, and they patched us up in the hospital. The Sheriff called Lestrade for us and told him of what we did and what happened. And then they told us how they were eternally grateful. After that we got the next plane to London, and are now safely on our way home. All I have to say to this frightful week, I sure as hell am ready for another vacation. "We should do this 'Vacation' thing more often. I haven't felt so relaxed in years." Sherlock said, making both John and I look over at him with harsh glares.

I _hate_ Sherlock Holmes.


	21. Split Personality

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY CAR?" I yelled, gawking at what was left of it. Someone had taken it apart.

"Looks like-" I held my hand up, not wanting to deal with Holmes. We made it back to good ol' 221B two days ago, and as of right now, John's at work, leaving me with _him._ We were going to go to a restaurant for dinner, but then…

"Great. Now we have to take a cab." I muttered and he smiled brightly. Douche. Just because he didn't like my car doesn't mean he can be an ass to it. He hailed and we got in, the cab driving off to whatever place Holmes picked. "Don't you think it's weird that Moriarty hasn't shown his face?" I asked as I looked at him. As he turned his head to look at me, his eyes locked above my head. Before I could ask what was wrong, His eyes went wide and he pushed me down, his body on top of mine. Before I could yell at him, the windows shattered and I screamed, clutching onto his jacket. The cab swerved, then a truck collided on Sherlock's side, the cab flipping and rolling.

* * *

I opened my eyes, everything hazy and muffled. I heard crackling and metal moving around. Then lots of shouting. I was soon being pulled backwards, through the open window and off to the side, me seeing the cab on it's back, a fire coming towards it. There was a purple, unmarked van that was 30 feet away, the front of it completely torn off.

"Lara? Lara can you here me?" A deep voice asked, then Holmes papered at my side, hovering above me as his blue eyes actually held worry. I was phasing in and out, only catching bits of what was going on after that. I remember seeing Holmes tie off my leg, but I didn't understand why. Then there were lots of people screaming. Next I was in Holmes's arms, him holding me bridal style as he hunched of me, running fast. Then we were both on the ground, me facedown.

I didn't understand anything… It was now dark, a orange and red lights flickering. I slowly came too, only to grunt in pain as I tried to move. There was a metal rod sticking through my leg, a large gash on my forehead oozed blood, and my already sprained arm is defiantly broken now. I looked around to see a giant ass car pile up, a good 12 cars where on fire, but the fire was spreading-fast. I put my head on my arm, closing my eyes as I tried to move. It wasn't until I looked up to see Holmes laying far too still before I could move. I used my only good arm and leg to slowly crawl to him. The pain was far too much to handle, but if it wasn't for him then I'd be dead. I have to try. I have to save him.

"Holmes…" I croaked, grabbing onto his arm and getting him from his side to his back. As I did so he coughed, opening his eyes. I sighed, smiling a bit in relief. "Thank God." I muttered and he sat up, staring at me.

"You shouldn't have moved. You've already lost well over a pint of blood." He said and I exhaled, feeling very faint.

"Yeah… For once I agree with you." I muttered, not meaning to lay my head on his thigh. I thought it was the pavement, but if he cared he didn't say anything. In fact he ran his hand up and down my back- awkwardly most likely but it felt so good I could honestly care less. Before I knew it, and actually without consent, I was engulfed in black.

*Sherlock's POV*

I sat on the ER bed, staring blankly ahead as a nurse put 14 stitches on the left side of my ribs. I already had 4 stitches to my left palm, 16 on my back and 5 on my right thigh. The entire time I thought about what happened. That was no accident. At all. Sure, if it were just the truck that hit us I might be able to believe that, but before that I just had enough time to get both of us down when a sniper shot at us. I was only able to get the glimpse of the shine off the scope, and as we turned I saw the whole thing, but I couldn't see the person. They were shooting out of a dark window, making sure I wouldn't be able to see. Which means they were over prepared. And there is only one person who could have known that I would be able to spot a sniper….

"Moriarty."

*Normal POV*

I limped with John at my side, us going over to where Holmes sat, in though at they patched up his pale torso… With muscles and pale, smooth skin. I watched as he breathed in and out easily, the muscles moving over his ribs and chest easily.

I honestly don't think it's fair at how perfect he looks.

"Well don't you look brilliant." John said as we came up.

Holmes looked over at us, raising a single black brow. "I've had worse." he looked to me then. "And she's a good 78.32% more damaged then me."

I stuck my tongue out at him, then smiled. "Well, at least I get a cool cane!" I held up my new cane that John bought me a couple of hours ago. It was all black, with a metal skull top and on the bottom metal skulls and fire looked like they were climbing up it.

Holmes stared at it in disgust. "You are incapable of being low key, aren't you?" He asked as he looked back to me with cold, blue eyes.

"Why would I-"

"Because you were put under my protection!" He snapped, and both John and I stared at him, confused at his sudden emotion change. It's not the fact that he went from carefree to pissed- that's normal. But for the fact that he actually _cares_ about my safety. I may have been drugged up, but from what I can remember John had to twist Holmes's arm just to take my case. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. That 'car accident' wasn't a car accident." Both John and I stared at him, but he looked around, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'll explain la-"

"No!" I growled, and now they both looked at me. The nurse finished the last of the stitching and she left, going over to another patient who just came in, who was bleeding profusely from his chest. "I'm no fool Sherlock. I know how terrorists work. I knew what happened once I woke up. Now you need to tell me what you know." I whispered darkly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Dr. Watson: Please report to room 448." Someone over the intercom said. John sighed as Holmes and I kept staring each other down.

"I have to get back to work. You guys try and not kill each other." He said, but he didn't make any motion to tell him we were listening. Once he left, Holmes stood and I couldn't help but be a bit intimidated by him. Not only is he tall, but strong and smart. The most terrifying opponents are his breed, and he didn't exactly look like my friend at this point. He walked up to me slowly, and stopped only an inch away, me only coming up to his chest. As he glared down at me, I say his arm moved and I got ready for the worst. But to my surprise he just reached around me and pulled the only open curtain closed. But when his arm returned to his side he didn't move. My heart hammered in my chest as we just stared at each other, not with malice now, but with understanding.

"There was a sniper before the car crash. This was planned by someone who knows me very well and someone who wants you dead." He deadpanned.

I stared at him, whole body going numb. "The bastard told them where to find me…" I muttered, and he nodded. I closed my eyes and put my head down, my good hand that wasn't wrapped up in a cast and put in a sling slowly curled into a fist as rage filtered through me.

"Don't." He ordered, putting both hands on my shoulders making me stare at him in shock, being as he was bent down to eye level now. "We can't let him, or anyone else know that we know. If they know that we know then they'll tell him that we know what they are doing and the attacks will only progress." I tried to follow the beginning but it was all for not.

"Innocent people have died today all because of us, and your okay with just sitting and doing nothing?" I asked, more or less figured.

"Should I not be?" He asked, and I just sighed, looking away. Why must I keep diluting myself? He will never, ever change.


	22. Pathetic Embraces

"What are you-" John paused as he entered 221c. Since I got my check from my last mission, plus a couple extra thousand for the mix up with the sniper, I decided to stop sleeping on that stupid sofa and get my own room. I had been working on it all day, being as how Sherlock ran off somewhere and John was at work. The walls were now a deep purple, ceiling fixed and white. A nice sized bed against the wall under the window and a sofa and table in front of the fire place.

"What do you think?" I asked him as he walked in and looked around.

"Uhh, not bad. Got paid then?" He asked as he walked up to me, eyeing my arm in the sling and the crutches against the wall.

"Yup. Decided to get this room. Mrs. Hudson gave me a deal." I grinned and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright you. Up those stairs. You need to eat and rest." He said, ushering me out of my room. As we made it up stairs, John went into the kitchen and I froze in the living room. I missed it at first, but sitting on top of Sherlock's head was a small kitten. It looked up at me with blue eyes, it's fur all black, blending into Sherlock's mop of black hair.

"Sherlock…: I asked and he continued to read his book. He was laying down on the couch, only in some sweat pants, and a T-shirt.

"What?" He asked, and I had to hold back a laugh as the tiny thing yawned.

"Why is there a kitten on your head?" I asked and he looked at me as if I were stupid.

"That woman came by saying she found my 'mothers' kitten." he said with a glare and I laughed.

"What's going on?" John asked as he came in with a bowl of soup.

"We have a cat now!" I said walking over and taking it out of Sherlock's hair, it purring an nuzzling it's head against my neck.

"It's a boy." Sherlock said, uninterested as he went back to reading.

I picked it up and looked at it, it staring back at me. "Kristofferson." I said and it meowed, making me smile.

"Dull." Sherlock muttered and I hit his head, making him glare up at me.

"No one asked you grumpy." I said as I put Kristofferson back on Sherlock's mop of hair.

"Alright, come on and sit down. I have to get back to work." John said as Sherlock continued to glare at me. I walked over to the armchair and John gave me the soup. "Now stop moving around!" He ordered them turned to Sherlock. "And you no cases! You both need time to heal!"

Sherlock huffed and turned a page in the book. "I haven't moved an inch all day. It's your sister that keeps making such annoy noises all day!" he picked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I had to get my room set up! You've been hogging the couch all day and this arm chair makes me even more sore!" I snapped back at him and he only smiled, continuing reading.

"Right. Well, just stay here. I'll be back home around one-ish." With that he swept out of the room and we were doused in silence. Well, that was until Sherlock decided to speak.

"I have a query that I have been mulling on for quite some time now." He stated randomly, and I just continued to eat my soup. "I have come upon the answer that it is never definitive, and the answer more or less reflects on the thinking patterns of the persons answer." He continued. "So, why is a raven like a writing desk?" He asked and I snorted some.

"Because Poe wrote on both" I said easily and continued to eat. When there was a silence, I looked over to see Sherlock staring at me. "What?" I asked with a glare.

"How did you come up with that?" He asked and I shrugged, taking another spoonful of soup.

"It's the only logical answer." I muttered.

"How?" He asked and I sighed.

"Well, I knew the writer of Alice in Wonderland love Edgar Allen Poe. And Poe wrote on a writing desk, and wrote a poem called 'The Raven'." He just stared at me and I at him, he then smirked and went back to reading, making my brows come together but not say anything. I then proceeded to wash my dish up, ignoring the finger in the drain, and turn the TV on, watching it bored.

"Can you turn that crap off?" Sherlock growled, where my only response was taking my head off my hand and flicking him off, continuing looking at the TV. "Don't promise something you can't commit to." He growled and that got me out of my daze as I snapped my head to him. He only was looking at the book, pouting some.

"You're just pissed because now you don't get to annoy me in the mornings." I said and looked back to the TV, only to be surprised at what he said next.

"What are you going to do about your nightmares?" He asked easily, not noticing me staring at him. He just flipped a page in his book and sniffed some.

"Ho- I haven't had them in awhile…" I muttered and he scuffed, rolling his eyes.

"You've had them everyday since we've gotten back from our vacation." He said, looking to me. "You scream and talk in your sleep, then pop up in the middle of the night, terrified." I just stared at him as he went back to his book. "I have to stay by you until you go back to sleep or else you just sit there like a whimpering cat." He deadpanned, and I sat back, staring blankly at the TV.

"No I don't." I tried and he only scuffed again, not speaking for the rest of the night.

*Sherlock's POV*

"What are you still doing up?" John patronized as he came in a little after one, putting his jacket up and rubbing his baggy eyes.

"I got my seven hours this week." I replied back, tuning my violin as I was stilled laid out on the couch, Kristofferson asleep in my hair.

He groaned and waved his hand, obviously not wanting to 'deal with me' as he says. "Goodnight." And left up to his room. As the hours went on I played without thought, my thoughts taking over as boredom kicked in. As I glanced to the clock, I saw it was three in the morning, and that upset me for some reason. I sighed and put my instrument down, taking the cat off my head as I sat up for the first time in well over a day. Kris meowed and I let him down, watching for a bit as he stumble as he tried to walk. I then sighed and ran my hands through my messy hair, looking at the door. With another sigh I stood and walked down to 221c, hearing Kris feebly follow after me with his tiny legs and body. I stopped at the door, listening. I could hear here breathing hard. I opened the door and walked in, to see her staring terrified at the wall. So, apparently after our conversation in the evening, she doesn't remember doing this every night. It's not unheard of, but I would be a lair if I said it didn't affect me. For some reason, it hurt him some that she didn't remember all the times he just sat with her as she cried into his side.

He walked over and stared down at her, watching as she still seemed to be awake, yet asleep. I sat on the edge next to her, and on cue she wrapped her arms around me and began to cry. I've done this enough now to know that just rubbing her back and not saying anything makes her feel better and let's her go back to sleep. So, that's what I did, glancing down at Kris who was pouting because he couldn't get up to us. After awhile she fell asleep against me as normal, and I stood, placing her gently back onto the bed, covering her and walking out, Kris following behind as I closed the door. As I went back to the living room and onto the couch, I could only snarl one thing to myself. "Pathetic."


End file.
